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«ie»oeofy cisoiutwn tbt chaw
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHAOT No. 2)
APPLIED IIVHGE In
1653 Eost Main Street
??f?f'*''' '*"* '^'^'^ 1^609 USA
(716) 4fl2 - 0300 - Phon.
(716) 288 -5989 -Fox
THE SEARCH FOR
MOLLY MARLING
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'AFTER THIS VilU MUST CCIIINT YOIRSKLI- OUR SON'.'
•Uee A 28.
THE SEARCH FOR
MOLLY MARLING
By EMILY P. WEAVER
WITH THHtK ILLUSTRATIONS b ' ANCELOT iPE
PEED
^
I
i
Toronto
THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY
LIMITED
CONTENTS
CHAP.
INTRODUCTION .
I. ILL NEWS .
* H. DICK'S PLAN
III. PERILS BY THE SEA .
IV. THE BEGINNING OF THE SEARCH
V. HDNTER JIM
VI. A NARROW ESCAPE
VII. ENLISTED
VIII. THE MARCH INTO THE WILDERNESS
IX. LOST AND FOUND
^ IN CAPTlVITy
XI. VIOLET-EYES
XII. THE HOLLOW LOG
Xin. HOW DICK RETURNED TO THE ARMY
XIV. THE COURT-MARTIAL ....
XV. OUT OF BOUNDS .
XVI. AN UNLOOKED-FOR MEETING
PAOB
5
9
i6
36
35
43
53
6o
68
?S
«3
9'
99
109
ii6
lis
130
4 CONTENTS
CHAP. •■*<=«
XVII. SUKEY OR MOLLY 137
XVIII. WHAT RED-STAR SAID 144
XIX. THE CHAIN OF PEACE 153
XX. A MOCK TRIAL l6l
XXI. MAKING FRIENDS 169
XXII. ON THE TRACK OF THE ARMY . . .177
XXIII. TWO ' WHITE LADIES ' 1 83
XXIV. AN ADVENTURE ON THE RIVER . . .195
XXV. ON THE MOHAWK QUEEN . . . .204
XXVI. A CLUE TO THE MYSTERY . . . .210
XXVII. SUN-IN-THE-HAIR AGAIN 219
The Search for Molly Marlin
INTRODUCTION
It was a still, warm evening, rather more than a
hundred and forty years ago. Scarcely a breath of
air was stirring amongst the trees, which were just
beginning to put on their autumn splendours. The
smoke rose gently from the lonely log-cabin in the
centre of the clearing, and no sound broke the stillness
but the tinkling of a distant cow-bell and the merry
laughter of a child at play beside her mother's knee.
But a storm was threatening. The sun, sinking
behind a heavy bank of clouds, touched the hills and
the forest with a fiery glow ; then all grew dark.
The mother carried off her still laughing child to
bed, but it was long before she could stop her little
chattering tongue and induce her to lie down and go
to sleep.
She herself did not feel light-hearted. The loneli-
ness of the great woods oppressed her, especially
when a storm was gathering. For two days she had
spoken to no one save her husband and little Molly,
and she sighed as she looked round the rough-walled'
room, only half lighted by the dying embers on the
hearth and the flickering candle.
ti
6 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Her husband glanced at her anxiously.
' What grieves you, Mary ? ' he asked.
' It is so lonely, Robert,— I am afraid.' Her voice
sank to a whisper,—' Think of our little Molly."
• We will go back to Philadelphia, Mary. We will
start to-morrow,' said Robert Marling. But he did
not tell her what he had heard that day— that the
Indians were gathering all around them.
' We must needs begin to pack our goods at once
then ? '
'Nay,' said Robert, 'we will travel as light as
we can.'
'Robert, you have heard something. Tell me
quickly— what is it?'
' Nothing, only General Braddock's defeat has made
the Indians somewhat insolent, and I think we shall
live more happily nearer neighbours.'
'Robert, I cannot sleep to-night. I must bake
something to carry with us, and put Molly's clothes
together.'
' Nay, Mary, leave everything till morning. You
will want all your strength. There is no need for
such great haste.'
But he was mistaken.
~ An hour after midnight Mary Marling was
awakened from a troubled sleep by the sound she
dreaded— the horrid Indian war-whoop. The next
moment the door of the little hut was battered in,
and the room was full of savages.
One snatched poor baby Molly from her mother's
arms ; the others did a still more cruel deed. In ten
minutes Molly was an orphan, and the red flames
were beginning to creep and crawl round the little
log-cabin in the clearing.
INTRODUCTION y
Soon the woods glowed once more in hot light
Clouds of black smoke rolled up towards the biLk
Skies Then the long-threatened storm burst. The
thunder crashed over the hills, and the rain beat down
home"'''"*^ "P°" ^^^ smoking ruins of Robert Marling's
Meanwhile, little Molly, frightened but exhausted
had sobbed herself to sleep in her captor's arms, and
was bemg carried rapidly away deeper and deeper
into the wilderness.
i!|
I
Vi
CHAPTER I
ILL NEWS
of the roLs oT S by hirS "''/^ ^'^'=^P«°"
was mied from too to Lt '^'"'y,^"'^ apprentices.
Silks and shalX'andTpL:'''*'' ^ "'^'^ ^'^ °^
that t/:; trsr;d:::;f .;r- ^''^' -^
been securely locked and larred but^n a HtT ''^
overlooking the river a hnVhf fi """" ^ ''"le room
candles i„ liver s^ces sh d I soft St ""'■""• -^"^
things brought from many clJstant LS "" '=""°"
In front of the hearth »af -, i j ',
Is that you, Dick?' she asWprI >,, i-i . .
■Then .It do»„. I „„, ,„ ^^ ^ ^
1
10 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Did Mr. Marlin(j receive any letters from America
to-day ? '
Dick hesitated. ' Yes, ma'am," he answered at last.
' 1 thought he would have told you.'
' Is there anything to tell, Dick ? ' and Mrs. Marling
fixed her eyes earnestly on the boy's downcast face.
'Dear lady. Master Marling will be back in an
hour,' said Dick evasively.
' I must know now, Dick. Come, what is it ? '
'Well, ma'am, some one— I don't know who —
thought he had heard something of— of '
' Master Robert ? ' asked Mrs. Marling in a tone
that went to Dick's heart.
He nodded. He could not fii.d voice to speak just
then.
' Dick,' said his mistress reproachfully, ' I protest
it is no kindness to keep me thus in suspense.
Speak out. Tell me all you know.'
Dick clenched his hands and cleared his throat.
At last he blurted out :
'Master Robert is dead, ma'am.'
' I knew it,' said the old lady in a low voice ' I
knew it. He would not have forgotten to write to
us all these years if he had been living. Now, Dick,
tell me all. When was it ? '
'Years ago, ma'am. Before I came to you. It
was the Indians ' and Dick dropped his voice
to a whisper.
Mrs. Marling shuddered.
' It was soon after General Braddock's defeat, the
letter said,' continued Dick. ' Did you know, ma'am,
that Master Robert had gone to live far away in the
wilderness ? '
'Yes, yes,' sobbed Mrs. Marling. 'You must
ILL NEWS ,,
never speak of it, Dick ; but Robert angered his
father by refusing to help him in the business, though
he was our eldest son. John and Will were living
then, and Robert wanted to see the world, poor lad
I prayed his father to let him go-pcrhaps, if I had
not, he might have been sale and well now. At last
Mr Marling consented, but he wanted him to come
back, so supplied him but sparsely with money. 1
dont »h,nk Robert understood how much his going
away had grieved his father, but he never said one
word of coming home. At last he wrote that he had
married-a Philadelphia lady; .:nd she wrote to me
too, most sweet little letters. I know I should have
loved her well. You have noi told me, Dick-was
thwre news of her in the letter that came to-day ? '
' Yes,' replied Dick ; ' they died together.'
* And little Molly too ? Dick, sometimes it seems
to me that God has sent on me a sorrow greater than
I can bear. For years, after the last letter came, I
hoped against hope, and watched and waited for
news. I was sure that God would send them back
to me, especially after He took away my other brave
lads.
Dick would have given anything to be able to
comfort Mrs. Marling in her sorrow ; but words seemed
too poor to express what he felt, and so he kept
silence. But his look was enough. His mistress
answered him as if he had spoken.
' I know, Dick,' she said, taking his strong -oung
hand between both her own, ' you have bee. my very
dear son these five years ; but still, I cannot forget.
They wrote so happily for three or four years after
they were married. They were so proud of little
Molly. Mary's letters were full of her pretty sayings
I a THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
■y"(
and doings. I hoped thnt Mr. Marling would bid me
write and beg them to come home— he loved Robert
fully as well as I, Dick ; then they wrote that
Robert had lost his work, and that they had no
choice but to go deep into the wilds. That was the
last we ever heard of them, Dick ; but oh I they might
have trusted us, and come home, instead of going :io
far away.'
' I have not told all, ma'am,' said Dick slowly.
' They do not think that the baby was killed too.
They think the Indians took her.'
' Oh, Dick ! — what makes them think that ? It is
the worst of all.'
' I don't know, ma'am. I only heard parts of the
letter.'
' I wish Mr. Marling would come home. Ever since
Wi, lost sight of them, nine years ago, we have been
writing to this person and the other, who, we thought,
might bi. able to tell us something ; but all has been
in vain. And to think that all these years that poor
little lamb has been growing up like a savage,
perhaps I '
' I thought, ma'am, you would rejoice that she had
not died.'
' Nay, Dick, there are things worse than death.
Besides, we do not know ; and if she is living, how
can we save her ? '
' I don't know,' said Dick. ' Mr. Marling may think
of something. Never fear ; we will .save her, ma'am.'
But Mrs. Marling refused to be comforted, seeming
to grieve more for the fate of the child than for that
of her son and his wife.
' Poor, sweet little Molly,' she moaned. ' She must
be well-nigh twelve years old now, Dick, if she is
ILL NEWS
•3
living indeed. Oh, if I only had her here! But
doubtless they have trained her to worship their idols,
and to deck herself out in beads and feathers like
themselves.'
And at the thought of the picture she had conjured
up Mrs. Marling began to weep most bitterly, rocking
herself to and fro in the chair. Dick stood beside her
with a helpless, puzzled expression.
Suddenly the door opened, and an old gentleman,
with a clean-shaven face and powdered hair, arranged
in a queue, entered. His handsome, kindly face wore
an expression of anxiety, and his manner, as he
hurried across the room towards his wife, was nervous
and excited.
'Tut, tut, Sally, my dear, what's all this?' he
exclaimed, with an air of surprise.
' It's the ktter, sir,' explained Dick.
His master turned on him impatiently.
' And what business was the letter of yours, ch ? '
But Dick was not alarmed. He knew what a kind
heart was concealed beneath Mr. Marling's testy
manner.
' My mistress asked me,' he said.
' Yes, John ; don't blame the lad. I asked him.
Make haste, my dear : where is the letter ? '
Really Mr. Marling was not sorry, when he came
to think of it, to be spared the painful task of breaking
the sad news to his wife. He took a worn little
packet from his pocket, and commanded Dick to
read the letter aloud.
It was from an old friend of Mr. Marling's, who
had been trying for year? ^rn what had become
of Robert. The confusio; viu ed by the French war,
which was now happily at an end, had rendered the
14 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
ta.sk peculiarly difficult ; but at last, by an accident,
he had discovered when and where Robert Marling
and his wife had met their deaths. With regard to
poor little Molly, however, he could find out nothing
but that she had been carried off by the savages.
' Do not weep, Sally— pray, do not weep,' murmured
the old gentleman. • After all, my dear, we have
long known that Robert must be dead.'
' But that poor baby '
Mr. Marling began to walk hurriedly up and down
the room.
'Sally,' he said at lajt, coming to a stand-still
before his wife's chair, ' I protest I believe she's dead
too. A delicate babe like that — how could she
bear being brought up like a little savage? It's
not possible.'
'" 'We don't know, John. She may be living. Think
of it— Robert's child, a heathen and a savage I '
Mr. Marling hastily began his wanderings again.
,,The idea was most repulsive to him.
'Well, Sally, what shall we do?' he exclaimed
suddenly. 'I might offer a reward for further in-
formation, I suppose?'
'Do, John. I would give anything to get that
poor child. Offer a thousand pounds ; nay, we could
well spare fifteen hundred in such a cause. Think,
it is for her soul's sake as well as for our love to
Robert. Oh, do say fifteen hundred!'
Mr. Marling laughed and patted his wife on the
check.
' Nay, now, Sally, you hac'. best leave that to me.
If
America manufacturing stories to cheat us."
I sparing.'
we offer so much, we shall have all the logues in
' Well, but, John, don't be too
ILL NEWS
•It is not that I grudge the money, sweetheart-
"ut 1 II talk to Newcombe about it. He's the most
t; wnfm'r '' °" «^q"-ntance. and .^tten u
we jll make out some good scheme to find the
Nlorjo:;^^:;;^"- '"-—Mrs.
Mr. Marh-ng laughed, and bade Dick get a chair
for h.s mistress, as the streets were ■ mighty dirtjj^'
CHAPTER II
DICK'S PLAN
Dick helped Mrs. Marling into the sedan-chair,
and then went back up the stairs to the sitting-
room ; for though legally he was only Mr. Marling's
apprentice, his actual place in the establishment
was rather that of an adopted son. He had many
privileges not accorded to the other apprentices,
but his responsibilities were great in proportion.
His father and mother had both died before he
was twelve years old, and for a year he had almost
starved. At the end of that time he had chanced
to be sent on an errand to Mrs. Marling. His
worn garments, thin face, and pleasant manners had
combined to touch her heart, which was always very
tender towards children.
She had questioned the lad closely, and to her
equal surprise and satisfaction was able to make out
that Dick's mother had been a distant connection of
Mr. Marling's. Of course after that nothing would
do but that the child must be provided for, and she
persuaded her husband that the most effectual way
of doing this would be to take him as an apprentice
into their own house.
To say the truth, Mr. Marling was nearly as ready
as his wife to admit Dick Herriot's claims upon
't I
DICK'S PLAN
17
them ; for it was only three months since he had laid
the fourth of his own children in the grave, and
the house seemed inexpressibly dreary without any
young people.
At first Dick was unnaturally still and quiet for
a child ; but after a few months of Mrs. Marling's
motherly care, he had grown merrier and brighter
and had lost the pinched, half-starved look which
so much distressed his mistress. Now he was a fine
tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with a quick'
intelligent manner that retained all its old pleasant-
ness. Mrs. Marling was very proud of him. She
even went so far as to think him handsome ; but
most people did not agree with her on that point
and Dick himself would have been much amused at
the thought that any one could see beauty in his
sandy curls, grey eyes, and somewhat irregular
features.
Mrs. Marling also thought him clever ; but Dick
though he had an aptitude for figures that won the
favour and respect of his master, had no great love
for books. The practical part of his education had
suited him better than toiling over grammars and
text-books; and though he worked hard to please
his kind protectors, he was much delighted when
they decided that he was fit to leave school and
learn the business. Since then he had found life
very happy and enjoyable, and every year he
seemed to Mr. and Mrs. Marling more like a
son.
On the evening of which I am writing, he threw
himself down in front of the fire with his arms
under his head, and lay staring up at the ceiling
thinking of Robert Marling and the lost child
■/•J i
ill
I ;
•5
k \
I*
i8 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
He had often talked to the sea-captains and
sailors who carried Mr. Marling's goods across the
ocean in their ships, anH from them he had heard
terrible stories of the Indians— how they wor-
shipped evil spirits, treated their women like beasts
of burden, and tortured and maimed their captives.
It filled him with horror to think of sweet Mrs.
Marling's little grand-daughter's being in the power
of such men, and he wondered whether she really
was growing up :-. heathen and a savage. What
f'fV was she like by this time? Over the fireplace,
amongst quaint paper fans and china vases, hung
a picture of Mrs. Marling as a little fair-haired,
blue-eyed child, dressed in white and adorned
with blue ribbons; and somehow, in spite of his
knowledge that Molly would not be wearing
muslin dresses and silk sashes, he fancied the
child as the counterpart of the picture. It was
intolerable to think that such a sweet, pretty little
maid was a slave to savages. If he were Mr.
Marling, he would spend his whole fortune, if
necessary, to find her.
— Suddenly he sat bolt upright, and poked the fire
vigorously. Why should not he go to America to
bring back Molly? He had always longed to do
something to show his gratitude to his benefactors,
and surely the chance had come at last to serve not
them only, but Him Who had said, ' Suffer the little
children to come unto Me, and forbid them not.'
How could Molly come to Him, brought up as a
heathen from her babyhood, unless some one found
her and showed her the way ?
His mind was still full of this thought, when he
heard Mr. and Mrs. Marling coming up the stairs.
DICK'S PLAN
»9
'Well, sir, what does Mr. Newcombe advise?" he
asked, rising and standing respectfully until Mrs.
Marling bade him be seated.
' He says, as I do, make it widely known in all the
great towns of America that we will pay nobly for
information that may lead to the recovery of the
child.'
'His lady suggested that we should send some
trusty man to make inquiries,' said Mrs. Marling.
'Whither, ma'am ?— to America?' cried Dick, with
an eagerness that he could not conceal.
' Yes, Dick,' said Mrs. Marling.
'Oh, ma'am— oh, sir, send me!' cried Dick. 'I
would do anything to serve you and to save little
Molly.'
But his master said slowly, ' No, no, Dick ; you are
too young ; it would never do. We have as yet no
information to go upon ; and though I would gladly
spend a fortune to find the child, I hold it more
proper to see first whether there ■:« any hope of
success. Besides, so much the better if we find her
without spending any very great sum,' he added
drily. ' Get me a oen, Dick, and the ink, and we
will make out an a jrtisement for the papers urought
out in America.'
Dick obeyed in silence, though he longed to urge
that his plan should be tried.
When he came back with the ink, Mrs. Marling
was saying earnestly :
'Well, John, at least promise me this — if the
advertisements fail, send out a man. What matter
if we do spend largely on the search ?— there is but
one person in the world, save Molly, to think of after
we are dead and gone.'
ao THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
'We will see, Sally. Now, Dick, sit down
and write what I bid you as plainly as you know
how.' J J
The advertisements were written and posted, and
long before an answer was possible Dick began to
watch for the replies.
He had almost grown tired of waitmg, when
Mr. Marling one day called him into his room,
and told him to carry up a certain letter to his
mistress. , , t^. , . .•
'Is it about Molly, sir?" demanded Dick breat..
Icssly.
'Yes; but it is not all that we could wish.
However, Mrs. Marling will want to see it. You
may read it to her, Dick.'
Dick hurried off, and found his mistress deep in
the making of a huge meat pasty ; but when she heard
what his errand was, she did not even stop to wash
her hands.
'Come in here, Dick," she said, sinking down on
a couch in the parlour. ' Now, read quickly.'
And Dick did read, blundering and stumbling
over the crabbed writing and queer spelling, but
contriving in some fashion to make plain the
meaning.
'Is that all?" asked Mrs. Marling in a tone ot
bitter disappointment.
' Every word,' said Dick, turning the letter round
and round, as if he thought he might thus get
further information. 'You know, ma'am, that the
man says at the b--inning that he doesn't know
much. But, after all, it's something to know that
there was a white child with those Indians near the
Ohio, even three years ago.'
•■> jl
DICK'S PLAN 31
' But we don't iknow that it's our Molly,' objected
Mrs. Marling.
'No, we don't,* admitted Dick. 'Oh, ma'am, I
believe the word I couldn't read is the chiefs name ;
it looks like Chief Red-Star."
Mrs. Marling put on her spectacles, and studied
the letter long and earnestly.
' Well,' she said at last, ' we must think what it
will be proper to do. I shall not have my pasty
cooked in time for dinner, I fear.'
But Dick still lingered.
' Oh, ma'am,' he exclaimed, ' do persuade Mr.
Marling to let me go to America. I feel sure I
could find Molly.'
' Oh, Dick, I couldn't spare you,' said Mrs. Marling.
' You are my only son now.'
' But, ma'am, I should not be long away. Do, do
beg Mr. Marling to send me. It wouldn't cost much.
Why, I could go out in the Pretty Sarah next time
she goes, and I wouldn't spend a penny more than I
could help. I would try ever so hard to bring the
little girl back to you ; and I don't think we ought
to waste a day.'
Mrs. Marling looked at him gravely, and said :
' Dear lad, it would not be right ; you are too
young.'
' I am nearly nineteen, ma'am.'
' Ah, well, Dick, I thank you for your wish to please
us, but I fear it cannot be. Mr. Marling has other
plans for you.'
Dick was silent. It was not for his own sake that
he desired to be sent to seek Molly, but he was
bitterly disappointed at the thought that he might
not be permitted to go. He did not guess that
22 THE SEARCH Fi... MOLLY MARLING
Mrs. Marling could read his feelings in his face,
until she put her arm round his neck and kissed his
cheek.
Then he said hurriedly as he turned away :
' I can never thank you enough, ma'am. I'll try
to do as you wish.'
He did not guess that, while Mrs. Marling's fingers
were putting the finishing touches to the pasty, her
mind was busy over the suggestion he had made.
He reminded her of Robert— he was so eager to be
up and doing ; and once again she wondered whether
It would be right or wrong to urge her husband to let
the lad have his way.
Besides, who would be so likely to bring back the
child, if she were alive, as Dick Herriot ?
That evening, when they were alone, she broached
the subject to her husband.
'The lad is beginning to make himself mighty
useful here, Sally,' the merchant said, when she
ventured to suggest that they might do worse than
send him.
'But, John, it would be folly to send a stupid or
idle man on s'-.-h an errand,' she said. ' If Dick were
of no use here, I for one would not send him to seek
our Molly.'
Mr. Marling smiled.
' To my mind he is too young.'
'So I thought at first; but whom else could we
send?
' What about Jacob.s ? '
' He might cheat us, John.'
' Well, there's Joseph Armitage.'
Mrs. Marling shook her head.
• He cannot do the simplest errand right, John.
DICK'S PLAN
as
Why, when you sent him to Cook's, did he not
bring you back chocolate instead of cinnamon ?
Nay, I sometimes think he is little better than
half-witted."
' I doubt not we could find some one besides
those two and Dick. I wonder how Markham
would do ? '
' He might have done all right if he did not drink
so much and so often,' replied Mrs. Marling.
' Then it's clear that, if any one goes, it must be
Dick Herriot— eh, Sally ? '
' I think we could have no truer messenger.'
' But you forget, Sally, how grievously we shall miss
the lad at home here.'
' I don't forget, John ; but we must try to save the
child."
'After all, Sally, that girl may not be Molly.
Besides, in three years, who knows what may have
happened ? "
' We may hear more.'
' Why, yes, I think we may. Let us do this, Sally-
say nothing to Dick for a day or two, and I will
try to find some trusty man to send, if send we
must'
' And if you fail, shall we send Dick ? '
' I scarcely know. Perhaps we shall hear further
of this girl in some other way. Let us be patient for
a day or two at least.'
But Mr. Marling could not find any one to send
so sure as Dick to be painstaking and faithful ;
and when a second letter came from America,
telling again about the white girl in Red-Star's
camp, he decided to let the lad go if his wife still
wished it.
»4 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
This time he himself took the letter up to Mrs.
Marling.
'Sally,' he said, 'here is another letter from
America, speaking of the child among those Dela-
ware Indians. Do you still wish to send Dick to
seek her?'
' If he desires to go, I do,' she answered.
' I will call him up and ask him. Dick,' said the
old man slowly, ' Mrs. Marling tells me that you
are willing to go for us to America to try to find our
grandchild— is that the case ? '
Dick's cheeks flushed.
' If you will trust me, sir. It is horrible to think
of such a sweet little maid as that' (he glanced
involuntarily at the picture) 'amongst the savages.
Besides, after all your kindness, which indeed I never
can repay, I should rejoice to do something for you
and Mrs. Marling.'
' Nay, I have no doubt that you will do your best,
answered the merchant kindly. ' My only fear is
that you may rush hastily into peril, for it will be a
dangerous errand.'
' Oh, sir, I will be careful ; and if I can only
bring back Molly to you, I don't care what happens
to me.'
' That is the difficulty, Dick ; but if you go on this
errand, you must needs learn to think enough of
danger, for our sakes, for your own, and for little
Molly's.'
' I promise, sir, I will do my very utmost neither to
be cowardly nor foolhardy.'
' And you think you would like to go?'
' Yes, sir,' said Dick, ' unless Mrs. Marling desires
me to stay at home.'
DICK'S PLAN
»S
'Nay, Dick, on the whole I would have you go"
said Mrs. Marling. '
Thus it was settled ; but Dick had to receive
many a caution and warning from Mr. Marling in
the weeks that passed before he and the Pretty
barah were ready to set forth on the voyage across
the Atlantic.
1^
CHAPTER III
PERILS liY THE SEA
bid Mrs. Marling farewcn '"'^ '"°'"'"S '°
■Dick.' she said, 'I cannot bear to let vou po
I^s^hall never forgive myself if any J i:;^:^
'Nay ma'am, have no fears for me I will bo
2 P-dent, very careful, and-thin/of thrive
f.^K- ,^* ,*^^* "'°""="' '^'■^- Marling seemed able
ay much t"°r' l"^ '''■'='' '''"'''''■ She Tould n^
ha^-hou in H ' ''"' ''" "^""S'^' °f 'hat short
after da" sn" '°°'" T' °''^" *° '^''^ ""'"d ""
ancr days. Nay, more than once it stood between
h m and some grievous temptation, and he wis
Mr..^Marhng loved him and was praying for him
'Good-bye, dear lad,' she whispered. 'May
God^^bc_^w,H you. and bring you L ,.JZ
'With little Molly. I trust,' said Dick, wisely
PERILS BY THE SEA „
anxjou, to keep the bright side of things in
Mn Marling is calling mc. ma'am.'
wheryoJclrbaTS '"'^'^ ''^ ""^"^ -'»''^*
an apprentice any ]o '.S > ^°" ''" *° '"^ °"^ «°". "ot
Without yourifyou'do:rmatsf-'°^" "'^ "■-
heicThrs ^s s::%"''^ °'? '^'^^' "-' ^"^ -"
with you and carrfor " '°''«"' "'^t God is
and tempta",on • ^°" '" "'"y "'"'= °f danger
«-.;inTStr;"asht°2?hf- -"'"'■ --^ I^'-ck.
the first time Then hTs ,^, . "''i:''*"'""'' "^"''= f^^
ran downstairs. """''" ""^^ ^gai". and he
not a moment to lose • ^ everything ? There's
For a few minutes he hurried n.vi i
were running a race but J.H ,P u '""'""S «•< -'f they
and his manner grew calm^ero^ *"' ""'' ^'^^'^•'="^d
the instructions, which Sfck °"'=rf' " '''= ''^P^^^^^d
Where he was to stay in iuf'l^T'' "^^ ''=«'•'■
was to obtain more moncv ^'"'^'"'''P^'^' ^ow he
carried with him wa" XL J r 1 ' "''^P'>' '"'
go for information-col'c^- '.;^ ^ 1°" '^^^^^ *°
evidently feared th-if Tl.vi , '^'"^ P"'"ts he
mis.ake ' ^'^"^ '"'g''t '""^e some grievous
1*
f:
18 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
vessels that lay at anchor, Mr. Marling's manner
changed.
' Dick," he said, ' did my wife tell you ? After this
you must count yourself our son.'
'I thank you, sir,' said Dick simply; but it
was not till long afterwards that he under-
stood how much Mr. Marling meant by what he
said.
In half an hour more Dick and his belongings were
on board the little vessel, which was as full as it
could hold of all sorts of merchandise for the English
colonics in America. He felt very lonely as he stood
on the crowded deck and waved farewell to Mr.
Marling. But, even at that moment he took pleasure
in his new dignity and responsibility. In his own
eyes he had stepped from boyhood into manhood;
and he felt that Dick Herriot, well dressed, with
plenty of money in his pocket, and sac' a weighty
commission upon his mind, was scarcely the same
person as the 'prentice lad who but yesterday
had waited on his master's customers and carried
his master's parcels. Other people seemed to
think the same. Even the captain called him
'sir,' and asked his opinion on the state of trade
as respectfully as if he had been Mr. Marlinp
himself. But they had not been long at sea before
Dick had other matters to think of besides his new
dignity.
A head-wind sprang up against them before they
were well out of the English Channel, and for a
week they were tossed about without making any
progress. Then the wind changed, but increased
in violence to a hurricane; and Dick, cooped up
below with his two or three fellow-passengers, learnt
PERILS BY THE SEA ,g
that even a brave nnm may find something to fear
m a storm at sea.
In those weary days of imprisonment in the
oL «n J"'^ "'"'"'' ""= "•'•"""• «"d begged
o be allowed to go on deck. But the caotafn
.n sp.te of his respectful manners, wa a S of
danglr ""^ °' •"" "^^ '" ^"'=h a time of
calm and cool and quiet, with nothing to occupy
^Z.u'l r" '.•"= °^"''' °^ the sWp confessed
that they had rarely seen worse weather. One awful
mght when .t seemed impossible that the poor 7t le
Sarah could any longer withstand the beating of
such enormous waves, Dick felt that he would have
given anythmg to be safe in his own plain H«Ie
room agam, but he contrived to keep his fears to
hu.se f. Next day the wind and .av'es motated
and. to h;s aston.shment. the captain congratulated
h.m on h.s courage. He was pleased enough but
n h.s own heart doubted whether he deserved
the comphment. for he knew he had been horrib y
afraKl unt.l he had thought of Mrs. Marlin ° as^
Shtr ''' '""' '°^^" " -' •'^'P °^ '"
For the rest of the voyage they had comparatively
good weather, but Dick's courage was to be put to
another severe test. P *°
The passengers were all on deck, and the caotain
.n ab"\' f" ^l'^" ''''' ""' ^-^P-'^d to s ghtC
raired°hU°r -d?^ -''- ^'- °- °^ ^^' -"or:
It was beginning to grow dusk, but far way on
& I
30 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
the horizon they could descry another vessel. What
was suspicious in its appearance Dick could not
guess, but all at once every one seemed to be
whispering the ugly word ' Pirates.'
Evidently even the most experienced of the crew
thought there was occasion for alarm. In another
moment all was confusion and excitement. The
captain ordered them to put on all sail, and presently
the Pretty Sarah was flying before the wind at her
utmost speed.
Dick found the race exciting. He thought they
were making good headway, until he heard the
sailors grumbling that the boat had not been built
for speed.
' What will happen if they overtake us ? ' he
demanded.
'Can't say,' replied the man he had addressed.
' How would you like a fight, young master ? '
Dick made no answer, but went below, and, taking
out a brace of pistols with which Mr. Marling had
provided him, looked over them most carefully. At
the moment he regretted, like young David with
Saul's armour, that he had not proved his weapons.
No one on board had much rest that night, but
when morning dawned the suspicious vessel was
nowhere to be seen, and every one made fun of
every one else for ^having been so ready to believe
in ' pirates.'
Three or four days later they ' sailed up the
Delaware to Philadelphia.
As they came in sight of the wharf, the sailors
began to make all kinds of jokes on the appearance
of a rather strangely built vessel, scarcely larger than
their own.
PERILS BY THE SEA
3>
' What is it ? ' n sited Dicif.
•Somethir.v worth locking at. Nothing less than
the pirate b.-rself.'
' What do /ou mean, • ir ? '
'Why, there s tii. .ship wc ran away from on
■ Monday night-more fools wc. But I told the captain
she was nothing to be afraid of. She hasn't the
build nor the rig of a pirate.'
The absurdcst part of the adventure was, as they
learnt afterwards, that the crew of the other vessel
had been equally alarmed at the appearance of the
innocent little Sarah ; and instead of chasing her had
been only anxious to get out of her way as soon as
possible.
In spite of the various alarms and inconveniences
which he had suffered on the voyage, Dick did not
leave the Pretty Sarah without regret. She had
been his home for nearly ten weeks ; and though
they had been neither short nor pleasant, he left
some friends on board, and had not one in the land
whither he had come.
He lingered on the vessel some little time At
last It occurred to him that he was forgetting his
trust, and that he could not begin too soon to take
steps to look for little Molly.
Mr. Marling had given him an introductior to
an old friend of his, a certain Mr. Overbeck who
was a, wealthy merchant in Philadelphia; but when
Dick found his house, he learnt that its owner had
lately gone to New York.
The lad was thus thrown upon his own resources •
and It was not till he had explored a considerable
portion of the town that he found a lodging for the
night
i; .
M:
32 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
It was a clean little house, close to the market-
place, in the busiest part of the town ; but coming
from London, Dick did not fear being disturbed by
the bustle.
His hostess was a widow with one son, a stern-
looking man about twice Dick's age. Dick tried
to enter into conversation with him, partly for the
sake of politeness, and partly because he wished
to gain information. But Mr. Archer did not ap-
preciate his attentions, and seemed to regard his
questions about Philadelphia and its inhabitants as
impertinent curiosity.
This treatment abashed Dick, and he ate his
supper in a state of utter discomfiture, that did not
affect his appetite, however.
Mr. Archer did not seem hungry, and presently,
with a muttered apology, rose and left the room.
Both his mother and Dick were relieved by his
departure. As soon as the door closed after him,
the woman laid her hand on Dick's arm, and said
apologetically :
'Don't you mind him, sir. He's a right good
fellow, is Joseph ; but his troubles have turned him.
Why, I can remember when he was as full of his
pranks as a kitten.'
'Indeed, ma'am," said Dick, still trying to be
polite, though as yet he felt very little interest
in his taciturn host; 'pray, what has changed
him?'
' It's a long story, and a horrible one. If I tell you
now, you'll never sleep to-night, and I can see you
need rest badly. Oh dear, oh dear, my poor Joseph
will never be the man he was ! '
And the widow sighed and shook her head in
PERILS BY THE SEA 33
a manner that Dick found extremely depressing.
He felt It incumbent on him to attempt some
consolation, though he did not well know how to
begin.
' Has he suflfered some accident, ma'am ? '
' Well, you might call it an accident in some ways
I suppose, sir. I don't see, I am sure, what made
the wretches choose to burn Joseph's house ; he had
never done them any harm '
' Ah, I suppose it was the Indians, then ? '
•Yes, it was; but how could you guess it, sir?
You may live long enough in Philadelphia without
once seeing an Indian.'
Dick was interested now in earnest.
' Tell me all about it, ma'am.'
But the widow sighed and shook her head again
I can t. You must guess, sir,' she said. • Joseph
had everything that heart could wish ; then he took
a notion that he must needs go west. That's what
hurts him now. It was his own fault, taking his
wife and babies into the very teeth of danger Well
poor lad, he was grievously punished. They were
killed-every one; and he came home to me half
mad.
' How long ago was it, ma'am ? '
'Eight years next fall. He has never lifted up his
head since.
J Mrs. Archer, I want to talk to him. Has he gone '
' No, sir ; but, as you saw to-night, he won't answer
even a civil question if he can help it.'
• I think he will, ma'am, when he knows all. Those
who sent me here lost a son by the Indians, and I
want to get back his little girl for them. But I scarce
34 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
know how to begin. I have never seen Ian Indian in
my life as yet,' said Dick humbly, for all day long a
sense of the difficulties of his task had been growing
on him.
' Very well, sir. I'll see if he will come.'
y
li
ti
Ci
CHAPTER IV
THE BEGINNING OF THE SEARCH
'Well, what do you want of me ? ' demanded Joseph
Archer curtly. ^
herf?^^' *"' '"''^ ' *^" ^°" ^^'^'^ '^^^ '"■""Sht me
' I care not to listen to idle tales, lad,' replied the
elder man. ' Your business is your own."
' But, sir, I need help. Listen."
Years ago it would not have seemed strange to
Joseph Archer to be asked for help, but he had
selfishly wrapped himself in his own great sorrow
and now he wondered that any one should expect
of hfmsdf'"- ^"' '' "' '""" *° "^*^" '■" ^P'*«
'Sir, my name, as I think I told you, is Dick
Herriot,' began the lad.
Archer ^'^^'^'^ '° ""* '''°''' ^°"' '*°''^'' '"'^""Pted
Dick was annoyed at his persistent rudeness, but
answered :
•Very well, sir, I'll begin at the other end. Nine
years ago a set of Indian savages came down on a
little log-cabin far out in the wilderness, and killed
the man and his wife who had settled there and
carried off their only child.'
iil I
36 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Archer lifted his hand and shaded his eyes from
the light of the candle on the tabic.
'Go on,' he said.
' It was my master's son ; but the news only came
to us five months ago. A little later we heard a
rumour that three years earlier a white girl had been
seen amongst the Delaware Indians, and we think it
might be little Molly.'
' It might be any of a hundred children,' said Archer
bitterly.
'Well, what must I do to find out?' demanded
Dick.
' How old was the child when she >vas carried
off?'
' Three or four.'
' You might as well look for a needle in a haystack,'
was the encouraging reply.
' That's not the point, sir,' said Dick. ' I've come
all these many hundred miles to look for Molly, and
I mean to do it. The only question is, how am I to
begin ? '
' If it hadn't been for this trouble with the Indians,
I should have advised you to get a pack and go into
the woods to trade. As things are, I have no plan to
propose.'
And Archer relapsed into silence.
Dick looked gloomily at one after another of the
many little pictures and sketches that adorned the
walls.
'Can't you suggest anything, sir?,' he said at last.
' I must find Molly. Did you ever hear of a chief
called Red-Star? Mr. Jewett, the man who wrote
to my master, seemed pretty sure she was with his
people.'
THE BEGINNING OF THE SEARCH 37
■With Red-Star I -gasped Archer.
JZd 171"' k' 'f "° '"°^^' ''"'' Dick rightly
Sr oS f Lt'dt'hEn"^^-^'- ^- '^^ '-'
Ar'cE'afS '""ifle"^ 'f" "^r'' ''^'"-'^^^
tl,,.. I. '"^ B""'^ with him, I swear
wt" Hearth:""- °T''''- "^ -"' ^^' h-
away. Hes the veriest brute that ever walked the
long"p7usf " "' P^°'=^^'^'' -■<^d Dick, after another
. ' Well, lad, if you must be doing, you mieht mak^
.nqu.nes among the trappers as to wheth" tyS
has been een of the child since Mr. Jewett vsi S
rerhaps she never was there'
^_' Where shall I go to find the trappers?' asked
■ Why, to the Black Bear over yonder and the rest
'For theT":' "'' u""""'' -'^.unutterable sco7^
.nf "'^. l^ "^''^ '"°''"'"g ^'■<=k began his tour
ButTs Etl-r^ '"''"^"^'^'^ ^>' '^' f--^-'^e?s
«ut his English accent and English dress markeH
h.m out as a butt for their amusement and the
trappers vied with each other in telling him Marvellous
and even impossible stories of the IdianTand ^
38 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
back country. He was by no means ready to believe
all he heard, but it was so difficult to distinguish the
true from the false that at noon he returned to his
lodgings utterly disgusted.
When he reported his ill success, Archer said
sternly:
' Fools that they are ! I'll go with you myself this
afternoon, and they shall tell all they know, or I'll
have the reason why.'
For the second time that day Dick made the
weary round of the inns of Philadelphia ; but in the
face of Archer's stern looks and sterner manner
the trappers no longer jested over the lad's questions.
Archer catechised them with lawyer-like severity and
acuteness, especially with regard to Red-Star and his
band.
' Jewett may be right,' he said, as they left the last
of the inns. ' You had better go and see him. But
he will not mock you, and I have business that I
must attend to, so you will have to go alone. Be
careful to pay good heed to all he says.'
Dick felt indignant at this slight on his prudence,
but before he had thought of a reply which would
be at once dignified and courteous Archer was out
of hearing.
Mr. Jewett was not altogether encouraging.
' You could scarcely have hit on a worse time for
the business you have in hand,' he said. ' Red-Star
and his braves are up in arms at this moment, at
their old work of robbery and murder, but they have
taken care to put their women and children out of
harm's way. I heard to-day that they have carried
them far west, beyond the Muskingum, where no
civilised force can follow them.'
THE BEGINNING OF THE SEARCH 39
'But what must I do, sir?' asked Dick in sore
perplexity. 'I cannot stay here in Philadelphia
frittering away my master's money and my own
time.'
'Better do that than lose your scalp. I tell you,
the Indians in their present mood are not to be
trifled witii. Why, sir, even our peace-loving friends,
the Quakers, are persuaded that strong measures must
be taken to secure order. The Assembly has decided
to raise three hundred men to protect the frontier,
and a thousand to march with Colonel Bouquet!
Had they but had wit enough to give him the three
hundred he asked for last year this expense would
have been spared, and many a poor wretch who
has been hacked or burnt to death would now
have been alive in peace and safety. I suppose
you heard in London of the great battle of Bushy
Run ? '
' Yes, it was a splendid victory, and we thought
it would have taught the Indians a sufficient
lesson.'
The merchant shook his head.
' The victory was not followed up, sir, as it should
have been, and work half done always needs, in my
experience, to be done over again. It was not
Colonel Bouquet's fault either. As I told you, he
begged for three hundred men to pursue the Indians
to their lurking-places, but the Assembly would not
stir hand or foot to send him help. In consequence
the redskins plucked up heart, and have been burning,
torturing, and murdering as furiously as ever. Why'
sir, the frontier people have had to leave all they
posse-ssed and fly for their lives. Lucky for them
if they could save them. At last, when the mischief
40 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
is done the Assembly thinks it time to interfere,
and votes men, sends to England for bloodhounds
to chase the Indians, and offers rewards for the
redslcins' scalps — of men, women, and children
alike.'
' What, sir ! do civilised gentlemen descend to such
barbarities ? '
' If you go west, Mr. Herriot, you will see many
a thing to shock your feelings. I say not that I
approve of all these measures, but it is certain that
something had to be done. Our rulers have been
most blamably dilatory throughout this aiTair.'
' But, sir, if the Indians are so mad against the
English, does it not make it the more needful that I
should seek Molly Marling without delay? Is she
not in pe'il ■:;• ery hour?'
' I think not, Mr. Herriot. By this time they
probably count her almost as one of themselves.
The child I saw was more Indian than English, save
for her fair hair and white skin.'
'What made you think that she was little Miss
Marling, Mr. Jewett ? '
The trader smiled.
'It sounds odd to me to hear of "little Miss
Marling." The child I saw was wrapped in a
ragged blanket, and thought herself very finely
attired, because she wore a string of glass beads
about her neck.'
Dick winced at the thought of dainty Mrs.
Marling's grandchild thus bedizened ; but he said
quietly, 'Was she the only white girl in Red-Star's
camp ? How should I recognise her, Mr. Jewett ? '
'That's a difficult matter. I am no hand at
description. I recognised her likeness to her mother,
THE BEGINNING OF THE SEARCH 41
whom I knew when she was no higher than the
table.
'But how shall I know her? I never saw her
mother.
Mr. Jewett looked puzzled.
' She's as pretty a little maid as I ever saw,' he
began. 'She has little hands and feet, light yellow
haired big blue eyes ; but as for your knowing
' Were they kind to her, sir ? '
' No worse than to their own girls, Mr. Herriot—
not what you or I should call kind, perhaps. She has
to work. When I saw her, she had a great load of
firewood on her back.'
Dick frowned, and set his mouth with an expression
of resolution.
' Do you suppose that she'll come away with you if
you do find her ? ' asked the merchant curiously ■ I
offered a good price for the little baggage, but she
was not willing to leave her mother, as she called the
old squaw she lived with.'
' I know not. I never thought of that, Mr. Jewett
But If I can only reach her, I trust I shall be able to
persuade her to come away.'
'Well, don't be too hasty, my lad. You can do
nothmg at present. Your best plan is to look about
and enjoy yourself There is much well worth seeing
m this new land of ours. It was a mistake, in my
opmion, for you to come out at this time ; but now
you must make the best of it.'
Dick was quite determined that he would make
the best of it. He had no notion of owning himself
beaten so soon, and he smiled rather scornfully over
the advice to lool. about and enjoy himself. What
42 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
did Mr. Jewctt take htm for that he should think that
he would spend on his own pleasure the money that
his master had entrusted to him for such a different
purpose ? Again and again he vowed that he would
never rest till he had found the child ; but how was
he to begin the search ?
CHAPTER V
HUNTER JIM
After his rather unsatisfactory interview with IMr
Jewctt. pick was not inclined to report himself to
Joseph Archer, to whom he was beginning to feel as
It he were in some way accountable. It still wanted
an hour of supper-time ; and not knowing what else
to do, he strolled up one street and down another
looking curiously into the shop-window^ and at the
passers-by At last he wandered out of the town,
till he reached the burying-ground of the Church of
lingland. The afternoon was very hot, and he stopped
lor a moment to rest, leaning on the gate
As he stood there, he began to read the curious
^r:u. s to the virtues of the dead which sorrowing
ic.at, . -.3 had carved over the graves. He found the
occupation so absorbing that he was startled when
some one touched his arm.
He turned, and saw at his elbow a big rough-
ooking man. clad in a half-Indian costume of a
fringed hunting-shirt, cloth leggings, and mocassins.
What do you want of me, friend ? ' asked Dick
in astonishment.
The man asked another question in reply
'Wasn't it you, sir, that came this morning into
Ihe Iroquois public-house with Joe Archer? '
44 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' Can you give me news
I'll help
' Yes,' said Dick eagerly,
of Robert Marling's child ? '
' Nay, but I can tell you how to find her.
you to find her, if you say the word.'
' How? Do you know the Indian country ? '
' Ay, that I do. I have lived in the woods, man
and boy, for little short of forty years. I know every
Injun village in the valley of the Ohio. There's not
a Seneca chief, nor a Delaware, nor a Shawnee
that ain't good friends with Hunter Jim. That's
their name for me, 'cause, though I hate to boast,
I'm a mighty good shot. Why, many's the time
that I've feasted a whole tribe on what I've shot
in a half-day. They love me, jest as if I was their
brother.'
' Do you know Red-Star ? '
' Ay, indeed. Red-Star, of all the Delaware chiefs,
is my best friend. He's a real fine fellow, is Red-
Star.'
'But you say you don't know where Molly
Marling is?'
' Nay, only I've not taken proper notice— that's all.
Now I think on it, there is a remarkable pretty little
white gel in Red-Star's camp — no doubt it's Molly.
But if it ain't, white gels is as common up there as
blackberries, and we're bound to find her, first or last'
' But they tell me there's no chance of getting into
the Indian country just now.'
' Indeed, sir ; and why not ? ' demanded Hunter Jim,
with a very good assumption of astonishment.
' Because of the war.'
Hunter Jim used some very ugly words, as he
was in the habit of doing, and declared with a loUd
laugh :
HUNTER JIM ^j
'The war won't begin to hinder us. Let 'em
each the.r grannies if they can. Trust ^e. s r ;
111 take you safe, there and back, to Red-Star's
camp; or if you're scared with these 'ere tales of
:htSgl.''"™'"^''""^°^-^--'''^'n.bac°k
' What is your plan ? ' inquired Dick, who was bv
no means pleased with the manners and appearand
of h.s new companion, but feared losing any oppor-
tunity of gaining his object ^ ^^
•Jest this. We^l get together a few things suitable
for Ae Injun trade, an' then we'll make up one or
two large packs, and go into the woods '
^ J was told it was useless to attempt to trade just
•Then young master, you was told wrong-that's
all there .s to it If you takes the right things you
can alius trade. We'll go around from camp to c^mp
an' .f we don't find the little miss inside o' sCmonThs'
you may call Hunter Jim a liar.' montfts,
'Who's to find money for all this?' said Dick
quietly, looking the big man in the face
Hunter Jim looked startled for a moment: then
laughed again in his uproarious fashion. • That's
a jood un, young master. Why, you. of course,
'And what will it all cost?'
•I can scarcely answer so off-hand. Look here •
fhen T'll r f "" *°."' '■''"^^ ^-S°'"g -th, a"d
then III meet you again, and show you what I've
bought, and all about it'
'There are two difficulties in the way. my good
friend^ In the first place. I cannot make over^my
master's money to you without being sure of a pro^r
mi-
46 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
return ; in the second, I should like to know what
you will want for your services, supposing we come
to an agreement.'
Jim frowned ; then began to play the bully.
' You are mighty suspicious, my lad. I ain't
a-going to cheat you. Ask any man round town
whether Hunter Jim ain't to be trusted. Ton my
word, if it wasn't for your being such a slip o' a lad,
I'd have had satisfaction for them insinuations.'
' Very well, if you choose to bluster, I will wish
you a very good-evening,' and Herriot walked briskly
off.
In two seconds, however, the big hunter overtook
him.
' Not so fast, lad ; I was jesting. Fact is, I'm a
bit hard up just now ; and if we can come to terms,
it ud be an advantage to me as well as to you an' yer
master.' Jim said this with the air of one making a
great concession. ' I'll go either with you or without
you to find the gel for half the profits o' all the
trading we do. Come, I couldn't say fairer than
that.'
' And you want me to find all the money ? ' asked
Dick.
'Well, yes, sir. Ain't I going to find all the
experience? Where would you be without me?'
'Well, I'll think the matter over,' said Dick.
' Where can I see you if I decide to make the
venture ? '
' It should be somewhere we can talk privately.
Couldn't you meet me here an hour later than this
to-morrow night ? '
' But if I decide not to venture '
'Come anyway, sir. But let me tell you, you'll
HUNTER JIM
iJick made no answer
•What sort of things?"
»«dfa. .„■ I don't k„„„ XT """' "'-■
»id"Si.r„r "" """' '"" ™ '">■ "■" f".'
' How aboutthemoney?'
see the goods Maybe if 11 h ''°" "«''* °" *°
. iwayoe, it we have good luck w»mi
get away into the woods this week ' '
n-t „,or„.„g amongst the stores, pricinrrl^W
48 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
and beads, guns, hatchets, and powder, and made
careful notes concerning the different articles in his
pocket-book.
Thus fortified with information, he went to meet
Hunter Jim with a calm and cheerful demeanour.
He found him pacing the pavement before the court-
house like a soldier on duty.
He greeted Dick with an effusion that that young
man was inclined to resent, for he was not prepossessed
with the bushranger's appearance. Indeed, the longer
he thought about it, the less he liked the idea of
going to seek for Molly in his company. But if the
man spoke the truth, his plan was hopeful, and it
seemed to Dick that he had no right to reject
any honest means, however disagreeable, to find
Molly.
' I've fixed everything,' said Hunter Jim. ' We're
getting them goods dirt cheap.'
'But I told you I couldn't buy till I had seen
them ! ' protested Dick.
' Well, lad, come along and see 'em.'
And Hunter Jim, taking Dick by the arm, led
him a little way along Market Street ; then turned
aside into a narrower street After that he took so
many turns and short cuts that Herriot became quite
bewildered, and was beginning to think he would
refuse to go farther, when the man led him down a
dark, dirty alley, and opened the door of a tumble-
down house that completely blocked one end of the
passage.
Dick was not pleased to find three or four ill-
looking men sitting round a shaky table in the
middle of the room. They had a couple of bottles
before them, and a miscellaneous collection of
HUNTER JIM
drinking-horns and broken cuds T1,»„
midst of a noisv ««n„ u . '^^ ^*''« '" the
the door opened ^' ''"' ''"^^'^ ^''™P"y -hen
Herrit? by" naS ^"^""^ '""-'^ ^ told you of, Dick
goods, Sam Nov .^ nd """.' *? ''">' y°"' ^"J""
cheat him. if^rdo Z'lX' '° '"^ *° *^>' ^°
Hunter Jim' ' ^ "" ''^^^ to settle with
here to the court-house ' ^ P'^'=^ ^""^
-.1;™:; ™S^ «"•• "«« »".: '» met b., h.
»lii.h J,„ h.d ,flkZ '""""' " «>= goo* of
■ Very well, sir ; come this wav ' A n j .u
'Eve^Thin; ':? Tnt^f' '^'f ™^^ ^^^ "^-^ly.
complete. Them's 1' kk *^" ^"J"" trade, all
scarlet, all liZl mI 7°"^' ""^' >'^"-' ^"'^
My, the squaws will go wild
II !
50 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
over 'em! Then this 'ere package is beads, best
quality. On them two articles alone you will jest
double yer money, if you manage right ; an' let me
tell yer, Hunter Jim is the most knowing man bout
Injuns that I ever see." „ . . u !,!,«
• Beads an' such trash is all very well, but show him
the rest of the goods, Sam,' put in his friend.
Sam accordingly pulled out a strange assortment
of old firearms of all ages and patterns.
' If you ain't in too much hurry to set off, we might
clean these 'ere up a little. A bit o' brickdust an
a trifle o' varnish would make 'em as good as new,
as far as the Injuns is concerned.'
' Do you mean that they'll buy these old things?
asked Dick in surprise.
'Yes, indeed, anything in the shape o firearms or
powder or shot goes, as the sayin' is, like hot cakes.
' But what can they do with them ? '
"Taint our business what they do with em;
I ain't a parson, young master. But if you want to
know, you might inquire from the settlers whether
they can use 'em or no.' And Sam laughed noisily.
•Without them guns,' he continued, 'I dont know
as I'd advise you to venture into the Injun camps
jest now, but with 'em they'd welcome you like a
brother, an' you ought to make a mighty good thing
o' it. There never was a time when they was more
eager for guns an' powder an' the like.'
'Do you mean that you supply them with arms
for the war ? ' asked Dick. .
■Why not. sir?-an', as you say, them guns am t
the most deadly kind o' firearms,' replied Sam, w ^
another loud laugh. , . a ft,» r>iH
Dick was silent ; but Sam, throwing down the old
HUNTER JIM J,
blunderbuss with a tremendous clatter, began to
remove the lumber from a corner of the ro^. In
another moment he displayed to view three or four
great stone jars.
'Now, young master, here's another thing you are
bound to have if yer to trade with Injuns-good hot
rum-an 1 11 give you a bargain on it. I guess I've
shown you everything you'll need now. If you'll "
come and sit down a bit, I'll get a piece o' paper
an calclate what I'll let you have the lot for I
spose you'll want the beads an' ribbons-oh, an'
111 throw you in a lot of han'kerchers and odds
an onds real cheap. Then there's the rum an' the
guns .'
'I won't trouble you any further, sir. These goods
will not suit me Indeed, I shall give up the trading
plan altogether. ^
'What, young master? Do you mean you ain't
going to trouble about the little gel ?'
.u'\ "!^^" ,*^' ^ '^°"'* *=*'''y '■»'" «"d firearms to
the Indians,' said Dick.
* It's yer only chance o' getting back the little eel
young man." '^ '
• Even if it is, I can't do it,' said Dick. ' Good-niVht
gentlemen.' ^ '
'Not so fast, sir. I've kep' the things fur yer, an'
yervegot to take 'em.'
'Nay,' said Dick; 'I told Mr. Jim positively that
I would not buy until I had seen the goods.'
' Nay, lad, what you said last night was, " Go right
away an' make sure o' the things 1 "'
' You are mistaken. Good-night.'
' Now, my lad, you ain't goin' till you've paid me
my price for the things.'
E 1
Sa THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Dick was secretly rather uneasy, but he tried
to put a bold face on the matter, and answered
'^'f '?ave told you I don't mean to buy. If you
keep me here till midnight.it will do you no good,
for I have no money with me."
•That's your own fault. You w.ll have to write
a note to youi lodgings an' send for some. Look
here, as there's been a mistake, an' you dont really
wani to travel into the Ohio Valley, we'll let you
off for twenty sovereigns in gold.' . , r.- i,
' I can't do it. The money isn't mine, said Dick,
walking with dignity towards the door.
' Oh. well, we'll give you a little time to think the
matter over. I'll be back in a moment. Jim.
As Sam left the room, Jim laid his heavy hand
on Dick's shoulder, and the lad struggled m vam
to free himself.
CHAPTER VI
A NARROW ESCAPE
Dick soon came to the disagreeable conclusion
that Jim was a much stronger man than he, and,
resigning himself to his fate, waited passively for
Sam's return. Ten minutes passed, and then he
entered the room, carrying a heavy old elbow-chair
and a coil of rope.
'I dessay you'll be willin' to do the right thing
by-and-by, an' in the meantime we'll make you as
comfortable as we can,' he said with a grin, as he
forced Dick roughly into the chair.
Dick set his teeth, and said not a word ; but he
bitterly blamed his own folly and self-confidence,
when they left him in the dark, unable to move hand
or foot.
In the distance, at the other end of the passage, the
shouts and laughter grew continually louder and more
furious. Suddenly the door was burst open, and the
whole crew pressed into the room, mocking and
jeering at their victim.
'Well, lad, have you come to your senses yet?'
demanded Sam. ' Promise that you'll pay me fifty
pound the first thing in the morning, and I'll untie
the rope.'
Dick made no answer.
te ..
54 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
'Speak, lad, or it will be the worse for you I'
exclaimed Sam. ' I've brought many an obstinate
feller to reason, but I've no wish to be hard on yer.'
' I tell you I've no money here,' said Dick.
' But if you wanted, you could find it. Will you
write what I tell you to Joseph Archer?'
' No,' said Dick firmly, ' I will not If you murder
me, you will gain nothing.'
' Ay, ay, lad, it's easy to talk— but wait till you try
it Now, I'll give yer till morning in this 'ere chair ;
then if you haven't come to yer senses, I tell you
what it is, you'll wish you were being scalped and
cut to pieces by the redskins. We'll leave yer to
Jim there, an' he's a man that ain't exactly tender
or squeamish. Do yer sec that dark mark on the
floor? Afore he begins with you, Jim shall tell what
made that'
Jim laughed brutally.
'Nay, words is wasted on the lad,' he cried. 'I'll
give him a taste of the real thing.'
Snatching the candle from the fello .hat held it,
he took it in his unsteady hand, an., .held it close
against Dick's bare wrist. The boy -..inced with the
pain, but would not please his tormentors by uttering
one cry for mercy.
Sam watched him with an ugly smile.
' Did I not tell thee, lad ? For my own part I'd
sooner be done to death by any redskin alive than
by Hu .er Jim. There,' he added, 'that'll do, Jim.
Leave tne rest till morning. He knows now what
he may expect.'
Presently most of the men left the room ; but, to
Dick's horror, Jim laid himself down to sleep across
the door with his head on a bale of stuff.
A NARROW ESCAPE jj
In his utter helplessness the lad was almost
ready to despair. He could sec no way of escape
unless he consented to ransom himself with his
master's money. And even if ho a^'recd to the
demands of these men, what certainty was there
that they would keep faith with him ? It seemed
hard that at the very beginning of his search
he should come to such a grievous mishap ; and
Dick felt worried and angry that he should have
allowed himself to be taken in so easily. Suddenly,
in the midst of his pain and weariness (perhaps
because of it, for she had comforted him many
a time when sick or sorry), came the thought of
Mrs. Marling and her farewell words. If she was
right — and he firmly believed she was — God
was with him, here and now. It was a blessed
thought; and Dick bowed his head, said his
evening prayer, and tried to rest, confident that
after all he was not really at the mercy of his
enemies.
But Jim tossed and tumbled on the floor like some
restless beast; then, staggering to the window, opened
It wide, grumbling loudly at the heat. For a while
his comrades continued to sing and shout in the outer
room, and Jim staggered restlessly up and down
the creaking floor. At last he flung himself down
in his old position, and Dick heard him breathing
heavily in his drunken sleep. Soon afterwards the
sounds from the other room died away, and Dick
guessed that the other fellows must also be sleeping
soundly. "
Hunter Jim had brought back the candle. It was
now guttering down into its socket with a flickering
light; and Dick, after a short sleep, woke to find
It I
$6 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
himself gazing at the face of his tormentor with
a Icind of fascination.
Presently he roused himself. Now, if ever, was
the time to make the effort to escape. When Sam
left him, after tying him to the chair, he had
done his utmost to break his bonds ; but the rope
was strong, and the knots secure, and he had done
nothing but hurt himself. This time he tried more
cautiously.
Regardless of the pain it caused to his burnt wrist,
he twisted and turned his hands this way and that.
Suddenly, to his great delight, the rope broke with
a snap that he feared would awaken the sleeper on
the floor. But it would have taken the report of
a cannon to rouse him from his stupor ; and he had
so charred the rope with the candle flame that it
made less noise than Dick fancied.
Fortunately he had a strong knife in his pocket,
and he reached it at last with his free hand. Then
he opened it with his teeth, and soon released himself
from his bonds.
He was so stiff that he could scarcely move, but
somehow he contrived to scramble up to the narrow
window-ledge. It was a mere slit, and for one
dreadful moment Dick feared it would be impossible
for him to get through it. However, he did squeeze
himself through ; and landed, feet foremost on the
ground, with a thud that happily startled no one
but himself.
He was in a small yard, with high palings, but
in a few moments he was lucky enough to find a door,
by which he escaped into a narrow lane.
All now seemed plain sailing, and he fled at the top
of his speed down one squalid street after another till
A NARROW ESCAPE ,y
Here he stopped to take breath, and to find out if
possible where he was; for the whole town ^^med
asleep, and there was no one from whom i. ,uld
ask directions.
Presently he saw a watchman in the distance ; but
distmstrng h.s own disreputable appearance he
hurned away m the opposite direction.
Jl^rit '° ^ *''* *''*'' "''■"B he could have
done, for the next moment he came in sight of the
court-house and from that point he had no difficulty
m findmg his way back to his lodgings.
He hammered loudly at the door.
•Who's there?' cried Mrs. Archer.
' Me. Dick Herriot ; let me in.'
'Why. sir. what has been the matter?' demanded
the woman as the light fell on his pale face and
disordered dress.
thirr.!!'^!^'"^'^.;?' ^!^^ ""* ' drink-I'm dreadfully
thirsty; then I'll tell you all.'
'What have you done to your hand?' inquired
Mrs Archer. 'Why. it's one great blister!'
for m"c'' ''"' '''''' ^'^"^-'^t 'ea^t. some one did it
'Now, mother, couldn't you give us a cup of coffee
and get Mr. Herriot a bit of meat before you talk?'
said Joseph.
But in spite of his long fast. Dick did not enjoy
his supper. ■' '
*- '^- turned away from the table. Joseph Archer
said
Now, lad, tell us everything. Where have
been all night?'
\l
you
S8 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' I don't know,' said Dick. ' I went with a fellow
that I met yesterday, who told me that he could trade
with the Indians even now — more fool 1 1 He said
he could buy a lot of goods cheap, and I went to see
them. But they were mostly old guns and powder
and rum, and I refused to take them.'
' Didn't I tell you that no honest trade could be
done just now with the Indians ? ' said Archer, unable
to resist the temptation to remind the lad of his
neglected warnings.
' Oh, I know. I can tell you, Mr. Archer, I soon
repented of my folly. There were some half-dozen
ruffians, and they bound me to a chair and swore not
to let me go until I paid them what they demanded.
Then they threatened to torture me, and one burnt
my wrist with a candle. Luckily, as it turned out, he
burnt the rope too, and so I got away through the
window while they were sleeping off the effects of
the spirits they had drunk. I must say, I think that,
had I been unable to escape, I should have been in
great peril of further torture, and perhaps death.'
'Let it be a warning to you, lad, not to trust
yourself in the power of strangers.'
Dick smiled.
' Were you not strangers when I came to you ?
But I will admit that Hunter Jim, as he calls himself,
is by no means amiable in appearance.'
' I should think not, Dick. He's a disgrace to the
town— I had well-nigh said, to the earth. If I
were you, I should be cautious for a day or two at
least. They will probably make another attempt
to rob you.'
' I am grieved to say that I foolishly let them know
where I was staying,' said Dick,
A NARROW ESCAPE j,
' I don't think they will trouble you here. We have
too many good neighbours for that. But beware of
going alone into the low streets, or out into the
country. You have had a narrow eccape.'
Dick did not think that he needed to be told that •
but he was too tired to talk any longer, and he went
to bed and slept till nearly noon next day
iMf
CHAPTER VII
ENLISTED
For the next few days Dick was extremely careful
where he went. But he had more than one alarm
through catching sight of some fellow whom he
recognised as belonging to the same band of ruffians
as Hunter Jim. Once he saw that gentleman him-
self approaching, and, to avoid him, took refuge
in an inn near by. It was crowded with people
and a man in military costume was vehemently
addressing those about him on the subject still
uppermost in Dick's mind. He was urging his
hearers to protect the people in the west, and to be
avenged on the Indians ; and Dick pressed forward
to hear better.
'This is the best chance you will ever have to
be avenged, my men, on the wretches who have
burnt your houses, murdered your wives, and
are now bringing up your children as savages, like
themselves, if they did not torture them to death
when they first carried them oflf! What! — so
no one here has suffered anything from the
redskins ? '
The man stopped and glanced keenly from one to
another.
ENLISTED g,
'I have a wife amongst the Delawares-God help
her I murmured one man. ^
'And yet you would leave her in their hands
wuhout striking a blow, eh? You don't deserve
to^have^wwes or children or homes, cowards Xt
SThri-j^---'--^ohaL"-
'Go where?' demanded Dick.
roJ.° "•■f'"'*' ^''^ '"'^'^"^ *•* Colonel Bouquet
Come. w|ll no one volunteer in so noble a service? '
I will.' shouted Dick. • Shame it were to leave the
women and children in such horrid slavery^
The recruiting officer looked at him doubtfully
Are you not from England, sir? ' he said.
' Yes,' said Dick.
'J^rbutlrS'^^'"''^"-''^'''^"^''
shir"! mrh"s • '"' " '"'°' '""•^'^ •^^^ '■" *- - '»>-
•But I must go.' cried Dick. ■ I have a friend in
the Indian country, and I must save her. I wl^
sent out to save her.'
wt,?f ' ""KJ""^' ^°'°"'' ^°"1"«t ^^"t« strong men
but I 1".^1~""''^- ^ '^° "°* "^°"''' y°»^ cowrie"
out 1 must obey my orders.' ^
t.ll^'"/ ^'I'^'^k, glancing at the men, who were
a^k ng to each other in low voices and with douE
mr'thr„t„;r' "- "-'''' ^° •^^ ^— -d
6» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' I'll go at my own expense,' said Dick ; ' but go I
must, one way or other.'
'Gentlemen, do you hear this?' cried the recruit-
ing officer. ' This lad puts you all to shame. He
wants to go even at his own charges. Shame on
you all I '
' Sir, do be pleased to put my name down without
more ado ! ' entreated Dick.
'Gentlemen,' exclaimed the officer, ' I am ashamed
to say that the only man here who cares a straw for
the honour of the country, the only man in whose
breast is a spark of humanity, is this young English-
man. I am glad I have not to leave this place without
one recruit on the roll. Sir, be pleased to tell me
your name.'
The little ceremony of enrolment was soon over ;
but Dick lingered to ask :
' Is there much hope of our being sent out quickly
against the Delawares, sir?'
'Most surely there is. To my certain knowledge,
Colonel Bouquet means to march against them as
soon as he can gather a sufficient force.'
Dick's example seemed to have a good effect. In
ten minutes half a dozen more men had volunteered
for service, and the recruiting officer's sneers changed
to compliments.
In his excitement Dick forgot that it was supper-
time ; but though his new friend ordered wine for all
who had joined the company he was raising, the lad
refused to drink. Unhappily most of the recruits
were not so prudent, and several of them could hardly
find their way home when they at last turned out of
the inn.
Dick was rather ashamed of being so late, and
ENLISTED
63
I expression
Joseph Archer met him at the door wi
of indignation.
'Fine doings, lad,' he exclaimed sarcastically.
How did you enjoy your supper at the Black
iJear ?
'You mistake I have not yet supped. Mr. Archer,'
replied Dick. • I am truly sorry to be so late, but I
forgot the time.'
'Forgive an old woman for warning you. sir'
interposed Mrs. Archer ; 'but if I were you, I would
not spend the precious hours in such a place as
that inn. You little guess the evil that may come
Jl^'^'^fj r^'^*"' ^ "^^ ""^f"' t° touch nothing
that could harm me. But. oh, Mr. Archer, I have
splendid news. At last I do believe that I am in a
fair way to find Molly ! *
'What! have you made it up with Hunter Jim?'
-sked Joseph grimly.
'No. sir, I have not I'll tell you what I have
done, though -I have enlisted for the Indian
' Enlisted, lad ! '
'Yes, the officer tells me that we are sure to be
ordered to make an attack on the camps of th.
Delawares. Don't you think this time that I have
done wisely ? '
Archer said nothing for several minutes. At last
ne muttered :
'Well, I'll say this-I don't think this plan
quite so foolish as it would have been to carry out
your plan of going with that precious scoundrel
J>m. It puzzles me, though, how they came to
enlist you.
if
64 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Dick was annoyed at this.
; Pray, sir, why should they not?' he demanded.
^^z:z:r "" ^ '''' ^°" ""- -'»>'"«
'Surely I can learn to do what the rest can?'
protested Dick -J „ean to try anyway tdthL
seems to me the only chance of seeking Molly for
IpproveT' '" P'"""'"' *'^* ^'- M*^«"g ^°"W
•Well, lad, if you are going soldiering, you will
Sble° ''' ''°" '"°^'"™ •"'° usetLn i
Archer, .f you can spare the time, I wish you would
teach me a few things.'
' What things ? There are many you could teach
me better than I you, I suppose' ^ou'^ teach
'Well, possibly,' said Dick, 'at least, if you
ever come to London; but what I want to know
1L;7 "^"^^^ '" ^^^ '^°°^'- ^ «lo know the
stick that was conveniently near. Dick gave an
impromptu exhibition of his skill i„ thrusting
and^parrymg. -I learnt it from a friend'in^
'That's all very well, lad; but what you'll want
to learn .s, to walk over dry twigs as noiselessly
« a cat over a carpet, to make yourself invisible
when you ought not to be seen, and to be able
see ii' * '° *"*'■ ^^''^ ^*^ y°" ^*" ^="«ly
* If that's all, I can practise shooting, and eoinc
about noiselessly,' said Dick cheerfully ^
' It IS harder than you think, insisted Joseph.
ENLISTED
«S
waftUTu';'^;:^,^^-- --n ^^ ''-^. -d she
himself fro. his olnZZT ^"^ '" ^''^'^ *° '"-'''^
yo*„/°' "^ ""■' ^''^ -H 'and God be with
guardian, iT'hl'^cU'esto" ''^^^0^1' l?''^
.^^ora.e or fo.i,. ,is .he f^TJ^^ ^
*I believe, mother/ he said with an air nf
tion, two or three days after hi i, ^ . ''^''^-
for service, 'that you w II be llaH ,^^l.:j°'""t-ered
well, to take my chance of ^^ ° ^"^ """ ^^'^-
redskins.' **' ^'"^ ^«=a'ped by the
i: 1
W THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' Nay ; but I shall be elad I fr...f ♦ i
back a new man.' ^ ' *"'**' *° '^*''=°'"« V""
'Mother, don't you know that ». /■ .
-ho go into the' IncJaTcttry JeU n°"
men perhaps, but worse n,.„ *u ! ™' "'"'
That is oS:' Jn^Z T^Z^-^^^'i T'
across Red-Star or any of hi. t j ^. ''°'"*
knows whether I, too mav n,^ '^' ^'^ ""'^
savage.' ' '^ "°' P''°ve myself a
light"'"' '"'^ "" "■^'■'' -- ■•" the red fire-
'My son, that must not be' renlf,.^ 1.1
firmly. -Does not our Master hM !'*\'"''*er
enemies? Did He not Sl.r . ' ^°'^''"' °"
derers? No, noW °h iTr ^ '^f^* "" "»"-
many wasted ye;r;Tou ^n . '^", *^"* "^'*'' 'hese
the tLe that rSn^o yol '''' "^"^ * "«'"'' "^ ''^
moSwol%e'min"dedT"'^ ^""^''''"^ '" »•-
resolutions o7 tCtV Ir °^ '^^ °^^ ^^P^' ^"^
seemed to havrcrumb^d ■ f^^^ Everything good
wreck of hfs home hfi? r f"^' ^''^ '^'^ ^^^»^
since the b?owfeirh;wthef.wT'.*'''^ ^''' ««"«
part more noby and it ?"*^ ''^^ P'«y«l his
beaten by mStune' "'"'''' '° ^ "« ""erly
his'^'ejl^s Tnd " T'^' ?'■"' ^ "«>- ''ght came into
ENLISTED
iaJit: 3? XfJ^' -fs 'ook.-„g after'
imposed on.' ^'^ '*«•. but easily
Whie S otrji^,?t^ ^^"* ^" •"•^ "•r«= ■•" London.
CHAPTER VIII
THE MARCH INTO THE WILDERNESS
When Dick enlisted, he fondly hoped that the army
would march upon the Indian encampments with-
out delay, but he was doomed to disappointment.
Evidently the people of Pennsylvania were not
enthusiastic concerning the campaign, for eight or
nine weeks went by, after the passing of the Bill to
raise the thousand men, before the number could be
completed. The delay was not altogether disadvan-
tageous to Dick, however, for he learnt many things
that were afterwards useful to him.
Archer played the part of instructor with zeal, and
was almost more pleased than Dick himself, when he
showed signs of becoming a good shot, and a passable
woodsman in other respects.
The Pennsylvanian men were to assemble at Carlisle
X^^^f. \*'.°"* * *'""'''■*='' ^"'^ *^«"ty "'iles west of
Philadelphia ; and on the morning after their arrival
there Dick came to Joseph Archer with a troubled face
Joe, he said. ' I have just discovered that Hunter
Jim and his friend. Sam Turner, are here amongst
the troops.' ^
■Well, they'll have no chance to harm or hinder
you in your search.' replied Archer calmly • Take
no notice of them.'
THE MARCH INTO THE WILDERNESS 69
of me, he broke out into swearing, and vowed he'd
be even with me." Why he should count I've
injured him 'tis hard to see.'
■I suppose the gang blamed him for your escape •
and.^most hkely, their reproaches were none of £
I 'rULiU T' *'"°"^'' *''*'' '^ '* •'"'^"'t '*«=" for him.
fhlVr K ,^u P"*^' "'*''" ^'^ •^'■t Philadelphia,
that I should have seen the last of him '
'Don't worry over him. lad. He is not worth it.
Keep up a brave heart and obey orders, and all
W.11 go we 1. By-the-way. I hope ^ou wrot; to M«
Mariing before you left Philadelphia ? '
I Anu' '"t'u !, '^''^- ' '°''* ^^' everything. Oh,
I do hope I shall succeed in finding MoUyl These
delays are maddening.' ^
Two or three days later Colonel Bouquet, a fine-
ookmg „,an of about forty years of age. arrived to
take command. He was accompanied by Governor
Sr p °" '?! anniversary of the notable battle
tyZS;:^t'''' ''' '^° "^"^"^ '^^ '-P«
'The necessity is laid upon us.' he said, 'of chas
t.smg the Indians for their repeated and unprovoked
barbant.es on the inhabitants of this provinceTjust
resentment of which, added to the remembr .nci o
former occasions, I do not doubt will animate you
hope to r" r""" '=°""'^- ^°" «nnot but
hope to be crowned with success, as you are to be
u^ed w.th the regular troops, arid un'^ler Te sami
able commander, who by themselves on this very d^y!
70 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARUNG
the memorable 5th of August in last year, sustained
the repeated atUclu of the savages, and obtained a
complete victory over them.'
The troops cheered him enthusiastically. Even
Joseph Archer joined with the rest, while Dick
shouted himself hoarse in his wild excitement at'
the thought of so soon beginning his long-delayed
search for MoUy. s »/'='
But Governor Penn had something more to say
When the last huzza had died away, he added :
• I like not to think it needful, but I must remind
you of the exemplary punishments that will be inflicted
for the grievous crime of desertion, if any of you are
capable of so far forgetting your solemn oath and
duty to your king and country, as to be involved
m It
'Surely,' said Dick afterwards, 'it was not necessary
for his excellency the governor to warn us of the
punishments due to deserters. Who would be so
base?'
' Probably one out of every four or five at the least
said Archer drily. ' I trust it will not be you or
me, lad.'
' I have no fear of that.'
'But,' continued Archer, 'it is not every one who
has his Molly or Bessy or Sally to think of, and talk
of fighting is very different from the doing of it. I
suspect the first few days' march will be enough for
some.'
'The cowards I' said Dick. 'When they enlisted,
they should have expected hardships.'
' Why, yes, that's all very well, but the imagination
of a thing is a mighty different matter to the reality.
If you don't feel as if you would like to run away
THE MARCH INTO THE WILDERNESS 7,
yourself at the Rm puff of .moke, my name', not Joe
ex iJj "th 7'""'"B,y°"- '"d- I don-t .ay_„o. nor
be shot t jth y^„^ ,^g^ ^^^^^
ti^e b avest who ha. no .....reciatlon of danger; and
that there ,s danger ^.,0, a feu- hundred Indian,
«n7nv" T 'r ' """^ ^'"- '^"^''- - -"" -"
rdcrfire} ' *'^'' '' ~- '^-' t time I wa.
'Do you? and did yoj ,uakc ? asked Dick
somewhat mollified. '
'That I did. I was MVaid sore one would see me
f,« ♦k'*'^ ^^^' **■'" ^ P'^"-'*=' ' 'f «"y one run.. I
hope that Sam and Hunter Jim may be of the paAy.
though fear .t is scarcely loyal to wish any rf h^
majesty's forces to desert."
' I don't think you need hope it. Dick. Those 1w .
have plenty of brute courage, and they dearly lov.
therjTad?' ^ ^'"^ '^'''" ^"' "'"^'^ '° ^^'t^^ »
ihJ!l!.?'f '^'r "^f^' P'"'"'' '■" '""'y Prep^ation for
the march. At last all was in readiness, and the
troops set out. carrying with them as little baggage
as possible. They only marched ten or twelve mil^s
a day but Archer's prediction was more than verified
uL l^' they reached Fort Loudon, a ruinous
httle wooden bu.ldmg. not quite fifty miles from
Carlisle, over two hundred of the thousand men were
missing, having deserted by the way ; and to fill their
12 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
places Colonel Bouquet was obliged to beg help from
the sister colony of Virginia.
At Fort Loudon he heard that Colonel Bradstreet.
who had been appointed to lead another army against
the Indians on the lakes, had made peace ; but L the
savages were still murdering any white men who fell
into their hands, and as Bradstreet had no right to
make peace on his own authority, Bouquet refused to
recc«nise his treaty, and still pressed forward
The progress of the little army was very slow, in
spite of the energy of its commander.
It seemed to Dick that they were months on the
r^' •,/ '"°"°*°"y of the long march through
the wilderness was broken by a week's delay at Fort
Bedford, where they waited for a body of Indian
allies, who nevt. came; but that week tried Dick's
taith and patience more than any other part of the
journey. He feared that they would never have time
to march into the Indian country before winter
And Archer, like one of Job's comforters, constantly
assured him that he might as wc U jive up all thought
of finding Molly that year.
So far the Indians had made no attempt to prevent
their adyanc^ though they had killed a few stragglers :
and Dick had still to learn what it was to be under
fire, when they reached Fort Pitt in the middle of
oeptember.
This strong fortification, with it great ramparts of
earth and brick, was built in a picturesque situation
on a httle tongue of land dividing the waters of the
Alleghany and Monongahela rivers, ere they met to
form the magnificent Ohio. When Dick first saw the
place, the surrounding forest had scarcely begun to
lose Its summer green ; but before he left it, two weeks
THE MARCH INTO THE WILDERNESS 73
later, the trees had put on all the glory of their
autumn garb. Dick, fresh from the din^gyTtreets and
sombre hues of London, spent many an hour of the
days during which they lingered at Fort Pitt gaz ng
feted th. JT^''^ '° ^ "' ^°^'^' ^"'l ^«" he
caSp ii toe ' ""''""'''^ '°"^'=*' ^^''-S*-^^
fo kL'^''* "°* '^^'^' ^"'^ '"''eed Ae soldiers were
£r of'^'r r '" 'r ^•^^ ^'^^l'- °^ *»^e ^°^"or
alf the ill f !!'• ^'i" ^"'" ''°^"'"g ^"^"t. doing
dU f .5 '•'^y '*^'"''- B"t fo' h« own part
than any number of Indians-probably because as
t^tu/"''^- '""' ''"''^ ^'^^^ th% were capable o7
and h d scarcely seen an Indian at close quarter?
had tLt" 7''^Ppy ~--ts of the Moravians who
of som^nf r/T'." ^'^"^delphia, to avoid the cruelty
ot some of the border ruffians.
Three Delaware Indians had indeed ventured into
the camp; but being evidently spies, two were ^
Snli^ r"'' ^"^ '^' '^"'^ ^^^ ^ent back to his
me°cv 7ft " T^r °' """'"S ^"<^ ^ P--- of
S^s ^ ^P'''' P^'^' ^"'^ ''^''"Sht back the
thJ"fn!!'^ ""fantime additional forces had arrived at
the fort and on October 2nd Colonel Bouquet gave
orders to march. His little army now numbered
fifteen hundred men. and was accompanied by droves
laden with baggafje and provisions.
Dick enjoyed the march through the woods, which
were often so thick that the pioneers had to cu T^t
w.th axes ; but the men were ordered to observe the
74 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
strictest silence, and again and again the lad was
tempted by some strange sight or sound to break this
hard command. All went well, however, till the fourth
day of the march, and Archer was becoming almost
complimentary over Dick's soldierly qualities, when
a sudden misfortune happened to him.
CHAPTER IX
LOST AND FOUND
The army had just crossed a tributary of the Ohio,
called Beaver Creek, by a somewhat deep and stony
lord. It had been a difficult matter to induce the
poor beasts, brought to furnish subsistence for the
men, to enter the cold and rapid water, and when
they had crossed it their drivers attempted in vain
to get them into marching order. Suddenly two
or three of the creatures broke through the line
and dashed wildly oflT into the woods. Their drivers
gave chase ; and Dick, though it was no business
of his, followed them, thinking it necessary to give
assistance, and still unable to grasp the principle
that a soldier must not presume to act without
orders.
The woods were thick and the trees tall, and in the
interest of the pursuit Dick soon lost sight of his
companions; but one of the unfortunate animals
brought so far to be slaughtered, was still plainly in
sight ; and the lad, making a circuit, contrived to
turn it back in the direction of the ford. He was
following at full speed, when he tripped over a fallen
branch, and knocked his head so sharply against a
tree that for a few moments he was quite stunned.
When at last he rose to his feet, neither man nor
76 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
beast was to be seen. He set ofT briskly in the
direction in which he supposed the army to have
gone; but after walking for a full half-hour, he
saw no sign of the troops, nor of the three parallel
lines in which they always marched.
It was very evident that he had lost himself, but he
had no idea yet that the matter could be serious, and
after resting a moment he set off in a new direction,
as he supposed. Alas! another half-hour's walk
brought him round to the very tree against which
he had struck hin head.
Dick sat down on the log he had stumbled over,
and thought deeply. The result of his meditations
was that he climbed a tall tree, and tried from
that elevated position to make out either the
creek or the army's line of march. But he could
see nothing to guide him.
He came down rather crestfallen, and perhaps
feeling a little alarmed. For the third time he
started from the fatal tree ; but remembering that
he had heard that, by fixing the eye on some par-
ticular point in advance, it was possible, even in the
woods, to proceed in a straight line, he tried to
follow this new principle. It was so far successful
that he never saw his old tree again; but as for
finding the tracks he wished, he was forced to admit
that it was a failure.
By this time the light was fading, and he began
to contemplate the prospect of having to spend
the night alone in the woods with anything but
pleasure. The air was growing damp and chilly ;
but fearing that Indians might be lurking close
at hand, he did not attempt to light a fire, though
he had both flint and steel in his knapsack.
LOST AND FOUND fj
Fortunately he had also a supply of provisions,
which, with good care, might be made to last for a
day or two.
After his meagre supper he made one more attempt
to find the path. He walked till it was quite dark
and then lay down on a heap of dry leaves that had
gathered in a hollow, with his head on his knapsack.
He had carefully weighed the relative dangers of
lying on the ground exposed to the attacks of bears
or Indians, or climbing into a tree, with the risk of
going to sleep and falling out of it, and had at length
decided in favour of the former alternative.
He did not sleep very well, however.' He was
cold, and the strange rustlings and creakings of
the forest made him fancy all sorts of uncom-
fortable things. When he did fall asleep, he dreamt
that Hunter Jim was sitting on his chest, while
an Indian tried to scalp him ; and he jumped up
with a start, to find himself alone beneath the
stars.
When morning dawned at last, he was so stiff
that he could hardly walk ; but he pJodded slowly
on till he reached a little creek, where he refreshed
himself with a good wash and a ckaught ot water.
He tried to follow its winding course, thinking
that It probably flowed into Beaver Creek. r..jd that
he might find the path the army had taken ■ but
the underbrush was so thick that he made 'very
slow progress.
A few more weary hours of daylight, and then
came another nigh^ in the forest; but this time
he slept heavily, and did not wake till the sun
was high in the heavens, for he was complete'y
exhausted.
7S THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Once more he rose and dri^ged his bruised feet
through the tangle of fallen branches and prickly
briers. The way seemed harder than ever. He was
almost in despair, when, after pushing through a
thicket of raspberry bushes, growing tall and high in
the virgin soil, he came suddenly on a road.
The road ; for side by side, not far apart, ran
the three distinct paths. For an instant Dick stood
wondering which way the army had gone ; then with
a sudden inspiration stooped down and looked at the
tracks of men and beasts. Yes, it was plain enough I
He was so overjoyed to think that there was no
longer need for doubt in which direction to travel
that he actually tried to run. But his energy was
short-lived. By noon he could hardly crawl, though
he struggled on, hoping against hope that he might
overtake the army.
For the third time since he had lost himself the
sun sank down. In the dusk Dick stumbled forward,
till a sudden fear crossed his mind that be might lose
the path again. Then he once more lay down to
sleep.
At dawn he was awakened suddenly by the sound
of voices clo.se beside him, and he sprang up to
find himself in the centre of a group of Indians, with
painted faces and heads decked with feathers. They
spoke quickly, and Dick guessed that they were dis-
cussing him. Slightly refreshed by his night's sleep,
he looked about for some means of escape, but was
convinced that it was hopeless.
From their wild looks and gestures he guessed
that one or two of the savages were for killing him
outright, but he fancied that some of the party
thought this imprudent. One dignified-looking old
LOST AND FOUND
79
Indian, with an imposing head-dress of turkey
feathers, made a long speech, which was of course
unintelligible to the young Englishman. Neverthe-
less, the old man's tones were so calm and argumenta-
tive that Dick had no doubt that he was pleading
on the side of mercy. At last there was a general
grunt of assent. Dick was helped to his feet his
sword was taken away, his knapsack was rifled
and his few possessions were divided among his
captors. "
Dick bore all this patiently, hoping that submis-
sion would induce the Indians to be merciful. Their
next proceeding, however, was to tie his hands and
fasten a thong round his neck, by which it appeared
he was to be led like some dumb animal. He felt
indeed, very much like one, for when he tried
to protest against this treatment they could not
understand him.
Happily for Dick, the Indians went that day
neither far nor fast ; and when they stopped to rest
at noon, the old man who had befriended him fed
him liberally with some strange-looking but not
unpalatable stew. At night he was tied to a stake
securely fixed in the ground, but slept so well, in
spite both of his bonds and his anxiety, that his
strength began to return. This was fortunate, for
after the first day the Indians made such long and
rapid marches through the woods that the lad had
much difficulty in keeping up with them. Once or
twice, when he stumbled or halted, his driver tried
to quicken his steps with a club ; but Dick still
strove to conceal his indignation.
He lost count of the days spent on the journey •
but (wo or three times, when he was beginning to
So THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
despair of escape, fresh hope was kindled in his heart
by some faint sound in the distance, that made him
fancy they were following closely on the track of the
English army. The behaviour of the Indians con-
firmcri this impression. They marched with extra
caution, lighting no camp-fires even to cook their
food, and at night took double care to secure their
prisoner. This was all the more irksome to Dick
because it seemed that he must be so near those who
would have rescued him, had they but known of his
unhappy position He was miserable, too, to think
that, after all hi- travelling and all his efforts, he
must fail in hi: mission. He was as powerless as
Molly herself.
As he toiled along the narrow forest paths, he
thought often of Mrs. Marling, and wondered whether
he should ever see her again, or whether he too, like
the child he had come to seek, would have to spend a
great part of his life amongst the Indians.
Presently a change came in his fate. One evening,
just at sunset, they entered a little Indian village on
the bank of a small stream. The whole population
came out to welcome the party with wild demonstra-
tions of joy. Dick had what he fancied a very bad
quarter of an houri; but if he had known how the
Indians often treated their prisoners, he would have
thought he had escaped lightly.
True, he was ignominiously led from tent to tent,
and exhibited as an object of interest ; but he was not
beaten nor tortured, as would probably have been the
case if the Indians had not known that Bouquet was
steadily pushing his way into the country they had
thought impregnable.
A crowd of children followed him wherever he
LOST AND FOUND
8i
was taken, laughing and jesting at his woebegone
appearance. Suddenly, to his great astonishment
and disgust, he caught sight of a fair-haired, white-
skinned girl of about twelve years old, absolutely
shrieking with laughter, as she pointed him out to
her companions.
The child was dressed like the Indian women, in
a wretched old blanket, and the very sight of her
made Dick's heart stand still. Could it be that
Molly would be anything like that? If she
w.-j:i, how could he take her back to dear old
Mrs. Marling?
After a while his keeper grew weary of the amuse-
ment of playing showman, and, to Dick's dismay,
tied him to a tree, and left him to the tender mercies
of the children.
To his horror, the little white savage shouted
some Indian words at the top of her voice, and
many more children came running out of the tents
and from the woods around. They began to dance
round the captive, with a very good imitation of
the war-dance practised by their elders. But this
was too mild an amusement, and an instant later
some one was struck with the bright idea of
using him as a target at which to aim sticks and
stones.
Dick felt like a baited bear, and it might have gone
hard with him, but at that moment a woman came
out of one of the tents, and indignantly sent the
children about their business.
Then, to Dick's astonishment and pleasure, she
addressed him in English, and he saw that she too
was white.
' God help you, sir ! ' she murmured. ' They dare
6
8a THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Colonel Bouquet is lo
torment anything that has
not really harm you, now
near; but they love to
life.'
Dick had not heard a word he could understand
since the unlucky day he lost his way, and now he
could hardly find voice to speak.
' Madam, I thank you,' he answered. ' Are you
sure that Colonel Bouquet is close at hand?"
' I hope so. I pray every day that he may be
brought here safely, to rescue mc and all the other
poor captives. I have been here four long years, as
nearly as 1 can reckon.'
' I have been a prisoner little more than as many
days, but they have seemed months to mc. Madam,
whose village is this ? '
' It is a Delaware village. The English call the
chief Red-Star.'
'
CHAPTER X
IN CAPTIVITY
Dick would gladly have told the English woman
the story of his search for Molly Marling, but she
was on her way to fetch a load of firewood from
the forest, and dared not linger. The lad watched
anxiously for her return ; but as he saw her in the
distance, his keeper came back, and, leading him
into one of the odd-shaped, conical tents near by,
fastened him as usual to a strong stake. Dick
passed a restless night, for the little tent was soon
crowded with Indians, and was so close and hot
that he could scarcely breathe ; but under more
favourable circumstances he would not have slept.
He was so much excited with the discovery he had
made.
In the morning, to his great relief, he was again
taken into the open air. Happily most of the women
and children had gone into the woods to gather
blackberries, so the captive was left in peace, after
the men of the tribe had had another discussion
concerning his fate— at least, so he judged from
their looks and gestures. There seemed to be a
difference of opinion concerning him ; but, whatever
it was, all agreed that it was necessary to keep him
still 'in durance vile.' Before the men went away
S3
MldOCOPY RESMUTION TfST CHART
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 1)
^
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U£
■ 2.2
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4.0
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^ ISSS East Main Street
^S Rochester. New York 14609 USA
S (^'6) ♦W - 0300 - Phone
S (^16) 288 - 5989 - Fox
84 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
they shouted to the child whom Dick called the
little white savage, and ordered her to watch that
he made no attempt to escape.
She was evidently proud of the trust reposed in
her, and, sitting down on a fallen tree in front of
Dick, for a full half-hour she hardly took her eyes
off him. '
Dick returned the gaze with interest. He decided
at last that some people might call her pretty, and
he wondered sadly if she could be Molly Marling
But he put away the idea with disgust. It seemed
like desecration to think of this dirty little savage
in connection with Mrs. Marling, and he forgot that
he had come to seek for Molly chiefly because she
was supposed to be growing up in darkness and
Ignorance.
Presently the girl grew weary of watching him so
passively, and, rising from her seat, broke a long
switch from a tree, and advanced towards him
Dick thought she meant to beat him. and, though
he did not fear what she could do. it made him
miserable to see a whitt-skinned maiden so cruel
During the next half-hour, however, he began to
respect her powers as a tormentor, and fervently
hoped that he would never again be left at her
mercy. She danced round him. laughing musically
enough, now tickling his face with her long wand
now the back of his neck. Then, by way of variety'
she struck him with all her force, or pelted him with
fir-cones that lay too conveniently near. He began
to wonder, with the superstition of the time, whether
she was possessed by some evil spirit, and as she
danced about him in the sunlight he gazed at her
with ever-deepening horror. Suddenly she threw
IN CAPTIVITY
'S
away her switch, and, perching on the log again
began to sing a wild Indian song. Her voice ecC
through the forest as clear and sweet Is hat of '
Server.''"' -"^-^^ at her heartlessness 1:
After a while she tired of her singing, as she had
the'tulft T ''^l'"'' ^^--"S •^-elf do:n on
tne turf in the sunshine, she was soon fast asleeo
fauL ' "h^'*' '°°'' P^^"^'' -•*'> her aSS
fps^And nl"'-'"' f '^^'^-^'""^ °" her rosy
r^ *w u- "''• '" a '"■"'^ °f ag°ny. prayed to
God^that this might not be the chL he had come
In spite of the bright sunshine there was a touch
of frost in the air, and he tried in vain to draw
the few rags his persecutors had left him closed
tT M .''""'"^ "^y- '' '■* had not been fo
the cold he could have slept, but as he couW
It was nearly noon now. The straggling row of
dark^oloured conical tents stood boldly^uf agalst
the background of gold-and-crimson maples. The
httle stream flashed and flickered in the sunlight and
Zosff ^"t V""^ '"^ "''^'y- ''"■^htly blue thTt Dick
ll hT iTJ": ""'^'^ '■" ^°"'^^'- -t the glory of it
In h s childish days he had learned from mL Marling
to associate blue skies with thoughts of God and
JSrid jr '■" ^P'*^°' '''■^ ""- weaS^ss of
tedy and soul, a strange peace stole over him
t°a G^" ""m ^"^«-*hat he sometimes forgo -
that God was able and willing to take care of Hi,
children in the best way, and^hat, if He aUo wed
them to suffer pain or to fail in their work, it w2
86 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
for their good. Dick never doubted that he might
claim this fatherly love from the God Who had
created him, and had sent His Son to die for his
sins ; but till now he had hardly realised that this
glorious truth must be equally true for every other
child of man. With this new thought in his mind,
he looked at the wild little figure at his feet with
different eyes. What right had he to turn away
from this child because she was unkempt ar.d
untaught ? The Son of God had not despised
the lowliest of His creatures — nay, it was for the
lost sheep He came. So Dick tried to reason
with himself; and yet, when he thought he had
conquered his feelings of repulsion, he still hoped
that this particular little savage might not be Molly
Marling.
His jailer had been sleeping for an hour, when
he saw a solitary figure coming towards him from
the little village. It was the English woman. In
her hand she carried a wooden bowl, and she
whispered, with a warning glance at the sleeping
child :
' I have brought you something to eat, sir.'
' Thank you, ma'am,' said Dick gratefully.
' Hush, be careful, or you will wake her. Happily
she knows no English, so that if she hears she will
not understand.'
' Madam, I am very thankful to you ; but what
would happen if they found you here ? '
' They would not hurt me. I have some know-
ledge of medicines, and they think I know more
than I do. Since the first month or two they have
treated me with kindness ; but I long to see my
husband and child again (two of my little ones
IN CAPTIVITY
87
were killed the night I was taken), and were it not
for this news of Colonel Bouquet I should try to
escape.'
' Then you think he will surely reach us ? '
' I hope so — at least, I mean to wait and see.
And, sir, i advise you to be patient. I mijjht set
you free, but at present I fear you would surely be
retaken, and I trust neither your bondage nor mine
can last long now.'
Dick sighed. ' I feel as if I can scarcely endure it,
even for a few hours more ; but of course, if I must, I
can. Indeed, I would not have you run into danger
for my sake.'
The woman watched him for a moment in silence ;
then said :
' If you wish, I will take the risk ; but should
you try, and fail, to escape, your case might be
harder than you can guess. I have seen things
since I came here that even now 1 me faint to
think of. However, I will untie those cords if you
desire.'
' In one sense I can't deny that I do most earnestly
desire it,' said Dicii, with a rueful glance at his
bonds ; ' but I know you are right, and I will be as
patient as I can. Besides, of all places in the world,
I have long wanted to come to Red-Star's camp.
Indeed, I have run much risk to get here, though
now I can do nothing.'
' Why did you wish to come here ? Have you a
friend amongst the captives ? '
Dick briefly told his story, asking, as he finished :
' Do you think, ma'am, that there is any fear that
that is the child ? '
' I can't tell, sir ; but there are half a dozen children
88 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
here about her age, who have some time been stolen
trom the settlements.'
'Well, from all I have seen,' said Dick, 'I hope
It may be one of the others. This morning she
acted as if she were possessed by some cruel
demon.
. t-'k^.'"^.?." ^°" «Pect?" asked the woman bitterly.
That child, whoever she is, was brought here so
young that she has forgotten her name, her parents,
and her mother-tongue. To all intents she is an
Indian, as much as any child born in the camp.
God help her, poor thing ! I thank Him, sir, that my
sweet babes were slain rather than brought into this
place of evil. At the time I would have given any-
thing to save them from the lingering cruel deaths
they suffered, but now I know that even that was
merciful compared to what might have been. I
think 1 should have gone mad, had I seen them
Uught the horrid deeds that I have witnessed here
The only wonder is, that any grow up merciful
and kind.
■ I sometimes forget all that, ma'am. It was so
horrid to me to see a maiden tormenting a poor
wretch, just because he was helpless, that I was ready
to hate her, and even now I hope she is not Molly
Marling. '
• I blame you not for that, sir. I, myself, should
dread having to teach Sun-in-the-Hair, as they call
her, to live as a white maiden ought. Poor child I
she is wilder than any little redskin in the camp
Now, there is another child of about the same age
who has been brought up here, and, in spite of all the
evil she has seen, she is sweet and gentle still. The
name they have given her means " Violet-Eyes." I
IN CAPTIVITY 8,
wish you could sec her. She is a pretty child
Perhaps she may be your Molly-at lea she ^^fs
lIhTc:u'SsThcT?.''^°'^°P^^''--^^°">'- ^''
LcLk ;, j'^;^:; "PPOrtunity. f will send her to you.
aL t.ntoth""^ '?f "'^ *""^'"S *° you, they L;
take jt^.^nto the.r heads to put it out of my pier to
' You have helped me wonderfully, ma'am You
have g,ven me hope that some good may come after
to slm?- ''''-' '""'' ^-S^'^« send Vir.Ey::
'No Good-bye!' and Dick's one friend as it
seemed, ,n Red-Star's camp hurried away
A few moments later his little jailer awoke but
wilful as she was, did not dare to leave her post unt 1
sthTto""'? .'T '^ °"^ °^ '"^^ -nTho ha'
set her to watch the prisoner.
She had not been gone many minutes when
to"w° d's I'im 1 ^'r '""^ ^^""^ ^'^ came runl"
Set aS Srtfd^ l^to^^'' -.n° >°n.e^
,„^ f • u . , ""''^"- i>ne. too, was white-sk nncd
and fa,r-ha,red, and her eyes were of so bright a blue
that D.ck was quite sure that she was vLet-Eycs
She was a httle taller, and much prettier in his
opm.on than Sun-in-the-Hair, and^he L wa
stTurhr ''-' ''' —-^ -- ^^ ^^
a bowl of cool water fresh from the brook Dick
was not thirsty; but he would not seem ungrafeful
90 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
for this little act of kindness, and drank to please
her.
The girl smiled at him shyly, and then sat
down close beside him, and gently stroked his
check ; but she said nothing, and Dick fancied that
she did not understand his thanks. Surely there
could be no doubt — this was Mrs. Marling's
grandchild I
CHAPTER XI
VIOLET-EYES
That night there was wild excitement in the Indian
camp. Late in the afternoon three men, apparently
strangers, entered the little village. They were
breathless with haste. Before the sun set all
the ciders of the tribe were call,;d together, and a
solemn conclave was held in a tent, considerably
larger than the rest. It was not far from Dick's
tree. He could hear the subdued murmur of voices
and he wondered anxiously what could have
happened.
To his great delight, the white woman, returning
from her second journey into the forest for firewood
stopped as she passed to tell him that the English
army was within a day's march of them.
'Then we are as good as free!' exclaimed Dick
eagerly.
The woman shook her head.
'Not yet,' she answered. 'Look at that squaw
yonder with the little fellow in her arms. She has
no children of her own, and she h ;s nursed and
cared for that little lad since her husband murdered
his parents three years ago. She loves him as
If he were her own, There is nothing she would
not do for him, and now she is heart-broken at the
9» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
thought that he may be taken from her. So It is
with many other families; and if the captive * arc
not bdoved, they can be made useful. I have carried
wood and water for my t> rants these four years
I have worked for them, taken care of their
children, and tended them when they were sick
I tell you, sir, they will not give us up without a
struggle.'
' What do they propose to do, madam ? '
'They talk of moving farther wer,t; but if so
they would lose their winter corn, for they could not
carry it off with them at such short notice. They
are in grievous trouble what to do. The hot-
headed young men are for holding the captives
at all risks, but the older men think they cannot
do it. I hope and pray that their councils may
be followed.'
That night Dick's keeper forgot him, but an hour
later the English woman came back, bringing a bowl
of hot soup.
'I fear,' she said, 'that they have decided
on carrying us farther into the wilds. Oh, I shall
die, I think, if Colonel Bouquet does not reach
us! It would be too hard to be disappointed
now.'
'Ma'am,' said Dick eagerly, 'if you will
dare unfasten my bonds, I will strive to reach
the army and inform Colonel Bouquet of our
plight'
' But you are no woodsman, sir. Is there any hope
of your finding your way ? If you fail, our condition
will be worse than ever.'
Dick sighed.
' I will do my best, ma'am. I can but try.'
VIOLET-EYES
[
93
The wn,„an hesitated. A horrible vision of
the bun. J of a prisoner who had tried to
c^^ape haunted her; b. s.-rely the lad would £
'Oh ma'am, be quick!" urged Dick. 'We mav
never have another chance like this.' ^
At his entreaty she bent down and tried to
unt.e the leather thongs, but the knots were
ttr " "'" *""' '""^ '^°""' ^° "°'hing with
•It's of no use,' she said at last; 'this is onlv
wastmg t.me. I will get a knife, but d'on't be alar„ ed
watched"' °' '°"" ""'■^''' ^^'^- ' ^'^' ' ""-y be
rnfn '^'T'^ ^"' ^^'""^- '^^'^ «'°™an did not
return; but the sound of debate in the 'council
house' d.d not cease, and whi:. the speech-maS
con.nued Dick felt that there was ^till h^pt'o!
He had begun to t rink that some accident
elol. ^P'^"'"' "'"" ^"'"'^ °- touched his
'Is it you. ma'am? Have you got the knife?'
whispered Dick eagerly. ^'
'No it's me,' said a voice, with what Dick thought
a foreign accent. 'Mrs. Freeland couldn't come
mSS..'^"°'°°^^^'^^^^'-^'^''^''>''''-''^-rt
^^' Who are you ? ' said Dick, with a sudden thrill of
' Violet-Eyes,' said the girl. 'Here's the knife • 't's
very sharp. Now. where shall I cut ? '
94 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
carJful°"T T"' *1.'^ *'" """" ''"«^' 'f ^^•«= ««
careful. Tell mc what to do."
Sharp as the knife was. the girl found it hard
to cut the thongs; but she managed it at last
and Dick stretched his stiffened limbs with a sense'
of wild pleasure in bis freedom. Then he blamed
himself for his folly in lingering even for a
moment so near the place where his enemies were
assembled.
•She says you must go north until you come to the
wide creek about half a mile from here. Then you
must cross it. and go cast till you reach the camp of
0»e English,' explained Violet-Eyes rapidly. • Look •
here IS meat and corn-cake for your journey. Don't
' But how must I reach the creek ? And I
hate to leave you here. They are so cruel;
they may kill you if they find out,' said Dick
Come with me. Violct-Eyes, and I will take
you back to your own people. They sent me
all across the Big-water for you,' he added
impulsively.
' Mrs. Freeland will weep if I leave her.' said the
girl, hesitating.
ell the leader she is here. Oh I do come; I fear
I shall lose my way again, and be brought back
here, said Dick, for he felt instinctively that to
appeal to her pity was the surest plan for getting
his own way. °
' Well. I vnlV said Violet-Eyes. ' Come'; and. taking
him by the hand as if he were another child, she led
him rapidly into the woods.
Dick wished to talk ; but Violet, as he soon began
VIOF,ET-EYES
95
to call her. held up her hand warningly. and, feeling
that they were safer under her guidance than his, he
meekly obeyed her gesture.
She walked quickly but noise! isly alone the
narrow path worn through the forest to the creek
of which she had spoken. Dick tried to follow her
example; but go as cautic-ly as he would, he
always secrricd to step on any dry branch that lay
across the track, and caused an appalling rustlinc
amongst the dead leaves. More than once Violet
looked at him anxi sly; but as he was evidently
doing his utmost to make no noise, wisely
forbore to add to his nervousness by useless
admonitions.
Suddenly she pressed his h nd more tightly,
and, again signing to him to silent, drew him
away from the path into a thicket. She crouched
down on the ground, and Dick did the same,
though he wondered what she had heard < seen
to alarm her.
He had not long to wait. Peeping through the
stems of the bare raspberry canes, he saw what
made him thankful that he had not had to trust
to his senses. Only a few yards away there was
a httle spot clear of trees ; and, as they watched
there moved across this space at least half a dozen
Indians.
Their feathered head-dresses showed black against
the sky; but Dick, trembling at their narrow escape,
was m no mood for very accurate observation
ijooner than he would have thought it safe Violet
rose to her feet, and they went quickly on their way
towards the creek. They crossed it without further
adventure, though the girl evidently feared that they
96 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
might stumble on some one whom they would wish
to avoid.
Here Dick would have been hopelessly puzzled
without his companion, for five different paths
branched off into the forest, and to him there
seemed no better reason for taking one than another.
But Violet wasted no time. They pushed rapidly
on, and before dawn were three or four miles on
their way.
Dick's spirits were rising, and at last he ventured
to break the silence in which they had been travel-
ling all night ; but his guide would have none of
such imprudence, and deigned no reply to his
remarks but an imperious sign for silence. The
fact was, she knew that they were approaching
another village of Delaware Indians, and feared that
at any moment they might come unawares upon
some of the tribe. So 'ir, however, she had seen no
signs of them, but she made a considerable detour
to avoid them.
Presently they came to another open space in the
forest, like a great meadow. Violet hesitated for a
moment whether to cross it, or to go round through
the woods; but as they were sure to be pursued,
every moment was precious, and she decided to take
the risk.
They were just about half-way across, right in the
open space, where there was not even a knoll or
a bush for cover, when Dick caught sight of a little
procession of Indians emerging from the forest on the
opposite side of the meadow.
Violet broke silence now.
' They have seen us,' she said. ' Pretend not to be
frightened, and I think they will let us pass. Look,
lltERK WAS A IKAV MINUTES' CONVKRSATION DKTWKKN VIOLET
AND IHK OLIl CHIEF.
VIOLET-EYES
97
there are women and children as well as men, and
they have their pots and kettles and all the com they
can carry. They are flying from the English. I trust
the army is close at hand.'
Dick did his best to look bra^e, but the memoiy
of his sufferings was so fresh upon him that, if it
had not been for his companion, he would have fled
at once. ,
'Are you sure this is the best thing to do? he
asked humbly, as the long procession came slowly
nearer.
'The only thing," said Violet. But she herself
looked anxious. 'Talk now — say anything you
Dick heroically strove to obey, but under the
circumstances conversation was too much of a
strain. He was relieved when at last they met the
cavalcade.
There was a few minutes' conference between
Violet and an old chief decorated with a necklace
of bears' claws ; then, to Dick's intense surprise, they
were allowed to pass unmolested.
' How did you manage it ? ' asked Dick, in wonder
and admiration. ,
•I told them that Red-Star had sent you with
a message to the English chief, and that I had come
to show you the way."
• But that wasn't true, Violet'
' They wouldn't have let us pass if I had told them
what was true,' said Violet, with the air of one
uttering an unanswerable argument. 'But now we
must hasten all the more ; for when they meet Red-
Star's men, as they will, they will tell them where
they saw us. There is one comfort, Big-Crow told
7
98 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
me where to find the English captain, and he says we
may meet some of the soldiers in about six hours
from now, if we walk fast.'
The prospect of walking fast for another six hours
was not encouraging ; but Dick did not intend to let
himself be outdone by a girl if he could help it, and
a few minutes later his stern task-mistress called a
halt for rest and refreshment.
CHAPTER XII
THE HOLLOW LOG
Three hours after their repast they reached a stream,
which was deep, but not very wide, and the girl asiied
abruptly :
' Can you swim, Dick ? '
' Yes,' he - ;plicd, thankful to be able to answer in
the affirmative.
' We shall need to swim here,' she continued ; ' but
I fear I hear some one following us. Make haste ;
let us get over, if we can, before they see us.'
They did their utmost, but the current was so
strong, and the opposite bank so high, that they
lost some precious moments in landing.
As they scrambled up the steep slope, Violet
exclaimed :
' There they are I Red -Star amongst them. They
have seen us. Make haste ; we must hide quickly.'
'Where ? ' ask-jd Dick in dismay.
The girl did not answer, but hurried forward along
the river-bank, looking eagerly to right and left for
some possible place of concealment. Suddenly she
stopped, and pointed to the hollow trunk of a great
tree that lay on the ground.
' Could you squeeze in there ? ' she said. ' Be quick.'
' But where will you go ? '
100 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
I can easily hide. Be quick,' she
' Never mind me.
repeated.
Diclc obeyed.
One end of the trunk was still solid, but Dick pushed
his way as far down as possible. Fortunately he had
gone in feet foremost.
' Can you go no farther ?' demanded Violet.
' No,' said Dick, after an ineffectual struggle that
threatened to break his uncomfortable refuge open.
' Then be still. Don't stir. I'm going to fill up
this end with leaves.'
' But why don't you hide yourself? '
'There isn't room for both in here. I'm all right
Whatever you do, don't stir till I come back for you,
unless you hear me shriek three times. I shall make
as much noise as I can, if they catch me ; but you
must not think they are hurting me. Poison-Arrow
is with them, and he is always kind to me. But if I
do shriek, you will know that I cannot come back,
and you must lie quiet here till you are sure they are
gone ; then you must keep straight on along the river
till you see a path into the woods, between two big
cedars, and that will take you straight to the English
camp.'
Not waiting for Dick to make any reply to all this,
Violet threw a great bundle of dried leaves into the
open end of the log ; then hurried away with so light
a step, that Dick heard no sound from the moment
the leaves ceased rustling.
His hiding-place was exceedingly cramping and
uncomfortable, but he was so anxious about the
safety of his companion that he almost forgot his
own feelings.
He dreaded and expected to hear Violet's three
THE HOLLOW LOG loi
shrieks; but the weary moments wore on, and he
heard nothing save a squirrel busily gathering its
winter store of nuts, and the ripple of the river
against the rocks in its course.
Dick could see as little as he could hear, thanks
to Violet's precautions to conceal his hiding-place.
He began to think he would be too stiff to walk, if
he had to remain in the log much longer; but he
heroically resolved to obey his guide's instructions to
the letter, cost what it might.
Suddenly he moved involuntarily; for though he
had heard no one approach, some one uttered a loud
shout, close to hi- head, as it seemed. For a moment
he was so startled that he fancied it must be Violet,
in danger after all. But this was only for a moment]
for the voice was harsh and hoarse, and vcr>' different
to the girl's sweet tones.
Dick's alarm was increased when the shout was
repeated, louder than ever. He was sure that his
hiding-place must have been discovered, but he lay
like one paralysed, and scarcely dared to breathe.
Presently there was an answering shout from a
li'tle distance. Then the rest of his pursuers came
nearer, and he heard a long whispered consultation,
of which the only intelligible sound was the word
'Dick,' which his captors had picked up from Mrs.
Freeland.
There was one comfort— they evidently did not
yet know where he was ; but by this time Dick had
gamed such respect for the acuteness of the senses
of the redmen that he hardly dared to hope that
they would fail to find him. As the talk went on
above him, he occupied himself with gloomy fore-
bodings as to his fate. It seemed to him that death
102 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
itself would be little harder than to have to go back
to the miserable captivity he had endured for the last
few days.
Soon, to his horror, some one flung himself down
heavily on the very log where he lay concealed.
Dick trembled, and prayed to God that his frail
shelter might not give way altogether. A second
later the hollow shell received another shock, as
Poison-Arrow seated himself beside his friend, a little
nearer the rotten end of the log.
Dick could not move now, even if he had not had
such strong motives to keep still, for the weight of the
men above him had pressed the hollow trunk all out
of shape, and Poison-Arrow was really sitting on their
'.ate captive's back.
Fortunately the Indian was not a heavy man
but Dick feared that he and the old tree might give
way together. He braced himself on his elbows
as well as he could, but it was a tiring attitude.
Poison- Arrow seemed painfully well satisfied with
his position, and though the others moved he did
not. Judging from the sounds, the men must have
stopped to take refreshment before continuing the
search, and Dick thought their hunger would never
be satisfied.
Meanwhile, the unintelligible debate continued.
Poison-Arrow had much to say, sometimes bringing
his fist down on the old log with an emphasis that
Dick thought most misplaced.
But there was worse to come. The next speaker
was a nervous man, like some more civilised orators,
and when he tried to express his thoughts his fingers
began to play involuntarily with his tomahawk. At
first he was excited, and waved his weapon wildly
THE HOLLOW LOr>
103
round his head in a fashion that m-ght have struck
terror into Dick's soul, ha \ he been able to watch him.
But, of course, he was not ; so ho was spared that
alarm. By-and-by, however, the speaker became
argumentative, gently tapping his tomahawk against
the tree. Dick thought the Indians were kicking it,
and wondered indignantly that grown-up men could
act so childishly. The next instant he felt a sharp
prick in h s arm.
He jum jed to the conclusion that, after all, they
had discovered him, and were just keeping him in
suspense from their love of torturing. He expected
that the other tomahawks wouU be through the
rotten wood in a moment, and was inclined to risk
letting Poison-Arrow come down with a crash. But
the orator was droning on so sleepily, and the second
little prick, which occurred at that instant, was so
much more gentle than the first, that the poor victim
in the log acquitted his tormentor of bad intentions,
and concluded that he had merely been prodding
the soft bark in absence of mind. At that instant
Dick felt, howpver, that absence of mind absolutely
amounted to a crime. If the speech continued, it
was evident that one of two things must happen, both
unwelcome to Dick— either he would be stabbed
where he lay, or his precious shelter would be
spilt open.
Fortunately it did not continue. After a grand
flourish, in which the tomahawk was again flying
round its owner's head, the speaker ceased. Poison-
Arrow at last arose, and Dick breathed n.ore freely ;
but, alas ! the danger was not yet over.
Some one officiously began to rustle the leaves at
the mouth of hia retreat. The lad almost gave
104 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
himself up for lost ; but, with a brief prayer for he!p,
he drew himself more closely together, and, covriiiig
his face with his hands, laid his head in the dust into
which the wood had crumbled.
The rustling tontiniicd ; then a voice at the very
entrance of his hole said something in the Delaware
tongue. Dick would have given anything to know
what. However, a moment later, his unconscious
persecutors moved away ; but he did not dare even
to raise his head for many minutes after their
departure.
At last he looked up, and was surprised to see that
all the leaves had been moved, and that one of the
Indians must have been looking right in upon him.
The fact was that the trunk looked so dark, the
hollow was so small, and Dick had been so motionles.s,
that they had scarcely thought it worth while to
look. They never guessed that an ignorant young
Englishman, as they thought him, could show so
much self control a J endurance.
Both these good qualities were pretty nearly
exhausted, when Violet's sweet voice whispered :
' Are you all right, Dick ? '
' Yes. May I come out ? '
Yes ; come. They have gone back across the
river. They may return ; but I don't think they will.
Can't you get out ? '
' Yes ; but I am very stiff. This hiding is terrible
work.'
' I'll help you,' said Violet. ' Give me your hand.
Nowl'
Dick scrambled out at last.
' It was a capital hiding-place,' he said gratefully.
' I never should have thought of it.'
1.
THE HOLLOW LOG 105
'Ah, but you see I've lived in the woods all my
life/ said the girl modestly.
It was still early in the afternoon, but the forest
was dark and gloomy.
Vio'.et looked at her friend anxiously.
• Tell me all about it, Dick,' she said. ' How did
you ,'et that mark of blood on your sleeve ? '
It was a scratch," said Dick. ' Some of our kind
friends began stabbing the old tree— just for fun, it
appeared. How did you get wet ? '
' Come, we must go on,' said Violet, with one of her
imperious gestures. ' I got wet with lying amongst
the rushes in yonder little pond,' she explained.
' They came within a yard of me ; but old Poison-
Arrow doesn't see as well as he used to do, though he
won't believe it, and he declared that no one was
anywhere around in the rushes.'
' Perhaps it was he. who looked in on me,' said
Dick.
• Very likely. He used to be a very good hunter
once, they say; but now he makes all kinds of
mistakes, and some day I fear the young men will
grow impatient and kill him.'
' Poor old fellow I He does seem better than most
of them. If it had not been for him, I fancy the
young men would have killed me the day they found
me in the woods.'
' Hush ! ' said Violet. ' Wc mustn't talk any more.
We don't know who may be listening.'
The woods were very thick just there ; but ten
minutes later, when they emerged into another open
space, Violet herself broke the siler
' I laughed so much while Ik ;,, ne water that
I nearly drowned myself,' she said.
io6 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' What could you find to laugh at 7 '
' Old Poison-Arrow. I thought they had gone, so
I lifted up my head to listen, and heard him talking.
He was describing how they had decided in the
council to send you with a letter to the English chief
to beg his mercy, and how dreadfully vexed they
were to find you gone. And he blamed Red-Star for
'reating you so badly, and he blamed me for running
avvay, too. I thought he might have blamed himself
for leaving you ?ll night under the tree.'
' Oh dear, what a pity I did not wait I ' said Dick ;
' but Mrs. Frceland said they were going farther west.'
' That's what they said at first ; but it seems they
did not like to leave their corn behind, nor the s'ck
people, and there was no time to take everything.
Poor old Poison- Arrow ! he's dreadfully afraid that
you'll make the English chief burn up the village and
kill a lot of the old men, because, he says, you'll say
all you suffered was their fault.'
' Why didn't you tell him where we were, Violet?'
' I didn't want to,' said Violet. ' You don't know
the Indians, Dick. Perhaps, after all, it wasn't true.
Perhaps he thought I was listening, and wanted to
make me tell. They will say anything to deceive
one. And I don't want to go back to the camp.
I want to be a white woman — not an Indian any
more.'
' You are a white girl, and I believe youi name is
Molly — Molly Marling,' said Dick impulsively. ' Do
you like it, Violet ? '
' Molly Marling,' repeated Violet slo\v'ly. ' I never
heard that name before. Yes, it is pretty.'
' Well, it's yours — I am sure it is ; and I'll take
you home to your own people. Oh, you'll be a grand
THE HOLLOW LOG
107
white lady some day, Molly I You shall have every-
thing you want.'
But Dick's enthusiasm was a little damiJed by
Violet's next question. She had learnt to talk such
pretty English from Mrs. Frccland that he had no
idea how ignorant she was.
' Do you think,' she said in a tone of joyous
wonder, 'that they'll give me a new red blanket
like Red-Star's squaw has, and lots of pretty
beads ? '
' Oh no, Molly,' replied Dick in a voice sharp
with disappointment ; ' you won't want beads and
blankets in England. You shall have a grand silk
dress, and lace and a gold necklace, and some satin
shoes, and a big cap, and some feathers to put in
your head.'
But it was only the last article in Dick's list of
feminine finery that appealed to Violet's impgination
She knew nothing of silk dresses and lace and satin
shoes, but there was something tangible about the
feathers.
' What sort of feathers ? Turkey feathers, Dick ? '
she asked innocently.
' No, ostrich feathers. You've never seen them,
Molly. English ladies don't wear turkey feathers
in their heads. Then you'll live in a big house,
with pictures on the walls, and carpets on the floors,
and books, and arm-chairs '
'I don't know what you mean, Dick,' she said,
rather wearily. ' Will they make me carry the wood
in from the forest, and catch the fish, and fetch the
dead deer home, like Mrs. Free.and, when the men
have been hunting?'
' No, no ; you'll never have to do anything you
io8
THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
tnir'^t '°'J^''^ ^''^ '^'^^y- 'English ladies
don t do those things; but I can't explain. Every-
to ?fke"it? ■ ^°"'" "°°" '"'• ""'^ y°"'^^ ^"^«
By this time they were deep in the woods again,
and Violet once more signed to Dick to be silent
Hush ! she said ; ' I hear something.'
■
CHAPTER XIII
ffOlV DICK RETURNED TO THE ARMY
Violet proceeded very cautiously for the next few
yards. Then she stopped altogether, and, stooping
down, put her ear to the ground, as she had seen the
Indians do.
' Some one is following us,' she whispered. ' Perhaps
Poison-Arrow has seen our tracks, and has turned
back to look for us. But it sounds like a great
war-party. Come, quick, but make no noise. They
will certainly track us if we are not careful."
Once more the girl led the way, gliding almost
noiselessly from one thicket to another. Once more
Dick tried to follow as swiftly and silently, but tried
in vain. He was still a few steps behind, when Violet
pushed her way through an opening in the clump of
bushes.
Suddenly, to Dick's dismay, she gave a wild shriek
and came tumbling out of the thicket again in frantic'
haste. She seemed to have quite forgotten the
Indians, for she ran towards the path as fast as she
could go.
In the same instant a huge bear crashed through
the bushes. Violet, who was now recovering herself
uttered a cry of warning. '
' Take care, Dick. Run I ' she called.
iio THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
She dashed on, Dick followed, with the bear in hot
pursuit. The race had lasted half a minute Violet
had nearly reached the path. Dick was not two
yards behind, when he looked back, and tripped over
a branch as he ran.
Violet screamed again, and turned back towards
her prostrate companion, drawing a short, sharp knife
out of a sheath at ler waist. But it would have
been a poor weapon in a struggle with such a strong
fierce beast. "
Dick scrambled to his feet, and, taking the knife
from Violet's outstretched hand, turned to face the
bear.
' Run, Violet,' he cried in his turn.
But she did not move, and the bear came on,
growling fiercely.
Just as he reached them, and rose on his hind legs
for the unequal contest, the report of a gun sounded
close at hand, and the great beast fell forward, shot
through the heart.
This deliverance from the terrible danger that
threatened them was so unexpected that Dick and
Violet looked at each other in utter bewilderment.
• Thank God ; it is a miracle,' muttered Dick
' More likely Red-Star.' said Violet. ' Look we
may escape yet. They will be so taken up with the
bear that no one will want to chase us.'
It was not Red-Star, however. A man in the
dress of a Virginian volunteer advanced towards
them, and Dick exclaimed eagerly :
'We are all right now, Violet. This is one of
the English soldiers. Sir,' he added, 'we thank you
for saving us from so great a peril.'
' Yes, you were in per:!, sure enough,' replied their
HOW DICK RETURNED TO THE ARMY iii
rescuer. • How come you, lad, to be wandering; in
the woods so ill armed ? That is a big, fierce-looking
old fellow,' he added, looking at the dead bear with
quiet satisfaction. ' I've killed many a bear, sir, but
I've never had quite so easy a shot. The brute's
attention was so much taken up with you, he forgot
to keep his eyes open for any other danger.'
vVe were going into yonder thicket, and I almost
fell over him,' said Violet.
' Yes,' sai i Dick ; ' we heard footsteps, and thought
it was the Indians, and so were going to hide. Are
we far from the camp ? '
Before their new friend had time to answer, half a
dozen other men came running towards them. For
a few seconds there was a general hubbub, but Dick
and Violet stood listening quietly to the eager
questions as to how Silas Crane had fall^^n in with
the beast.
' The girl here will tell you,' replied Silas.
He was busy drawinfr some brushwood over his
prize, to conceal it till could take time to skin ."t.
Just now they had been ordered on an errand over
which they dare not linger, for their leader required
an implicit obedience, which, to say the truth, the
American volunteers found somewhat distasteful.
Violet was repeating her story, when she was
interrupted by some one saying rudely:
' It's lies from first to last. I know the lad. He
deserted from the Pennsylvanian Volunteers ten days
ago.'
Dick recognised Hunter Jim's voice, though in the
dark he had not noticed that he had joined the group.
He was too much startled to contradict the accusation,
and the trapper continued :
ua THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' His name is Dick Herriot, and he's a regular
young vagabond. He tried to git me to come into
the Injun country with him, and when I wouldn't fall
in with his schemes he jest goes and 'lists. A pretty
soldier he is. Why, he took good care to run oflf
afore there was any risk o' fightin'.'
•That's not true,' said Dick indignantly. 'You
know it isn't.'
• Well, you can't deny that you only come at all
'cause you wanted to get back some white gel, that
you'd heerd was with Red-Star.'
' I don't mean to deny it, but that would not be
any reason for running away.'
'No, an' neither was them wild brutes o' cattle.
They was none o' your business ; but you must needs
run after them— to get lost all o' purpose. Oh, he's
a mighty deep feller, for all he looks so inncrcent'
Silas Crane, who seemed to be in command of the
party, here intCipo-'cd.
'Now, now, my men,' he said, 'we have no time
for idle gossip. Mr. Herriot, I fear you must con-
sider yourself under arrest as a deserter, but I hope
you will be able to clear yourself of the charge
against you.'
Dick did not answer. It seemed to him at that
moment that he had been marked out as a special
butt for misfortune ever since he set foot in America.
However, it was one comfort to think that Molly
was safe beyond the reach of the Indians at last.
'Sir,' he said, appealing to ."ila? ' will you see that
this lady is properly cared for ? She was carried off
by the Indians when a child.'
' I'll see to her, lad. Come along, little miss,' said
Silas kindly.
HOW DICK RETURNED TO THE ARMY 113
But Violet had no notion of allowing them to
separate her from her friend. She took no notice
of Crane ; but pushing through the soldiers who had
surrounded Dick, she grasped his hand.
'What is wrong?' she asked. 'I thought they
were your friends.'
' I thought so too ; but I was mistaken, Violet.'
' They are wicked. I hate them,' she said passion-
ately, as the little procession began to move through
the woods.
Hunter Jim, who was walking close behind, laughed
loudly, and muttered :
' It's him as is wicked, missy. He's the worst
liar I ever see, though he prides himself on being
a Christian.'
'Hush, Jim,' muttered his friend Sam warningly.
' Don't try to plaster on the mud too thick, for most
folks will be readier to believe that lad, wi' his decent
civil manners, than an old grizzly like you.'
' What ! are yer goin' back on yer old chum,
Sam?' demanded the hunter angrily. 'Didn't yer
vow you'd help me to punish him for cheating us
so abominably ? '
'Yes, an' I will stand by you, if you'll not make
sich a big fool o' yerself. You spoil yer own game.
It's easy to see that you've a spite agin the lad.
Don't say another word against him till yer asked.
He's bound to be tried to-morrow, an' the colonel's
none too easy on deserters. Besides, I've found out
something that will put a spoke in his wheel, even if
he should get off. He don't need to think he'll get
the reward for taking that girl back to those who
sent him. She ain't Molly Marling, or my name
ain't Sam Turner.'
8
"4 THE SEARCH FOR I.ioLLY MARLING
' How do you know, Sam ? '
'When I tell yer all, you-Il think I've the best
reasons for knowing.' And Sam whispered something
into his companion's ear.
'Well, that beats all!' exclaimed Jim. But after
a pause he added, ' I don't see how yer goin' to fix
this great discovery o' yours to be any real good,
arter all, barring that you may feel a bit lonesome
now yer gitting up in years. Though she is a wild
gel, she'll cost you suthin to keep, an' she won't brine
in much."
' I don't mean to be out o' pocket with her, trust
mr. ; nor to keep her, if she's more bother than she's
worth. I might find I'd made a mistake, an' pass
her on to them Marlings in the end— eh, Sam? I
guess thej d pay me fur my trouble.'
' But what good will all this do me ? '
' If you'll stand by me, I'll see it does you some
good. Have I ever failed yer yet ? '
'No,' said Jim. 'You've been a good friend to
me through thick an' thin.'
It was true. Some strange attachment held the
pair together; and ho ,iver they might cheat other
people, they always kept faith with one another.
'She's a fine, handsome, spirity gel,' said Jim
meditatively, as he lay staring up into the sky. ' She
puts me in mind o' Patty at times,' he added, after
a long pause. ' I've told yer of her, haven't I ? '
'Yes,' said Sam, rather gruffly. "Taint no use
thinking o' them old days ; they only trouble one for
nought. You talk o' your Patty, but didn't I have
a wife an' three young uns killed about the same
time ? Leastways, I've alius thought so till now.'
'Ay, but if Patty hadn't died, I don't think I'd
HOW DICK RETURNED TO THE ARMY 115
ever a-took to the woods, an' lived sich a life. But
there, everything alius has bin agin me. I never had
no chance from a boy.'
' Bah, Jim ! sich talk is jest fit for gels an' boys.
You've had the same chance as the rest o' us.'
' I don't know that, said the big hunter feebly.
It's like as if I've got to do what you wants
me to ; but I've sometimes wished I'd never heerd
yer name, nor seen yer face.'
' Nay, lad, you should be the last to put on saintly
airs. Positively you sometimes make me sick wi'
your brutal ways. Who but you would 'a' burnt that
lad's wrist, setting him free, jest for love o' seeing
some poor crittur in pain ? '
This was generally a sore subject, and Sam knew it ;
but Jim made no answer, wishing once again in his
dim, stupid fashion that he had not been forced to be
so bad. It was the most hopeless thing about him
that he seriously believed that his ugly, wicked life
had been, not his choice, but his misfortune. It never
dawned on him that even now he might break loose
from evil, if he v/ould ; but Sam Turner knew better.
CHAPTER XIV
THE COURT-MARTIAL
added to her ' ^ '^""'Pl^'ons of the soldiers
their fveninrmeal ""=" ^"^ """''^ P^^P"'"g
^a^^tiij^st'i^ir-^^^"^^^--^^-
thus ^rout.Tz,iTjX'':j^,t 'of r '^^ ^^
he so much despised AnH c, • . ^''^ """^
prove his innoceC-whtlnTH"f ''^ '°''^^ "°'
cence Clear as the noonday, or would give him
Si'
1;
THE COURT-MARTIAL \ ,,7
strength to bear patiently the cruel trial of suffering
undeserved punishment At that moment he felt that
the doom of the deserter was more than he could
endure. The disgrace that seemed so near him filled
his mind to the exclusion of every other definite idea,
and his eyes rolled wildly hither and thither in vague
hopes of escape. He was at last roused from his
gloomy thoughts by some one's attempting to take
Violet away. She resisted angrily, clinging to Dick
the more anxiously because of his evident distress.
' I won't go ! Let me stay with Dick,' she protested.
' Nay, Violet. A good lady like Mrs. Freeland will
take care of you to-night, and to-morrow they will
perhaps let me sec you again.'
' But I don't want to go, Dick. I mean to stay
with you.'
" Ah, but, Violet, you must go. Look, if you don't
go, you will make them more angry with me.'
' Well, I will go, if they will let me come back to
you in the morning.'
'Yes, my lass, you shall see him again, sure
enough— once at least,' added one of Dick's comrades
under his breath.
' Good-night, then, Dick.'
' Good-night, Violet.'
An hour after Violet had left him, Dick heard some
one talking to his guards, and presently Joseph
Archer came into the tent.
'Oh, lad, I'm glad to see you again!' exclaimed
the elder man. ' Do you know I had given you ud
for lost ? ' ' f
' Perhaps— who knows ?— I am lost still,' said Dick.
' Have you heard what they accuse me of ? '
'Yes, I know. The colonel will hold a court-
ii
ii8
i-HE SEARCH KOR MOLLV MARLING
melancholy." ** "'"'"■«'' "P- I^on't look 1'
3h:irrt:'dt"r' ^'^-J-.'-'wilibes^cha
Nonsense, lad r f.ii
»« you doing ? ' ^°"' >'°" «'°"'t die. What
brightened. -J^ "^^ ■.,,'"'' P°or Dick's face
England safc^.i?," youp'she'l t '^'' *°
beaut>fully_she learnt if frL ^ '^"^' English
Star's camp; but she Ho/ v, ^ "'°"'^" '" Red-
-ays. -d I 'should be gad" to rir' '" -">=
a good friend to take .tf^rV:::^ '''' ''^ '^'
-'^ as if ;Sr:e"r: o^JoTdtte > ^'^ -•" ^'O"
a God Who sees and Z ^'"'^^•^'^ ? Is there not
and his oppressor "VutdeelTr '""^ '""°«"'
after all my faithless yea"! to L,t . .""' ''"'" "g'^*'
' If the colonel believes h2 r°^ ^'^ '° °"'"^"
goodasdead/persistedDifk ^^^J'*"^"-,! am as
"o you think the colonel L.
suppose he'll kill a man on th». "° T'' ' ^° y°"
'But part Jim says "s tr^/ "rT-- ' '""'"''■°" ' '
the sake of seeking MoHv.' ^ •^"' ""'^ ^"''st for
' That's nothing Th» „ i
'■s. that you did not wait f^"""^"'^* t^-^uWes me
t ose unruly beasts ' Hotve': i^t: ''^^°'-.\'=''asing
a". I don't suppose thaf Z7 ^^ P""'sh you at
-ere for thaf Ho„ttirDiS"1"^ ^■" "^ -^>'
/. iJick, I am not in the
THE COURT-MARTIAL „,
you'bSrTf'' ^" '°'" '*^''y'"'' ' ~"'d not love
you better if you were my brother '
The young fellow's face brightened at these re-
yo'u'fot" uZly^ ^° '■" - '■-'-*■ TC. me how
Dick grew quite excited in recounting his adven
o"p^t\t '"'°" ^"''" ''■'^' "^^ persuaded thTd
the r. I K P P"! ^^^y- ^"'l t° "« do«n and take
the rest he so sorely needed.
He lay awake so long, however, that he fancied he
awakened by the men sent to take him before the
much-dreaded colonel.
He and several of his chief officers were sitting in
a.m.c.rcle at one end ofa large ten, when D^'k
The boy looked anxiously at his judges and the
hope wh.ch Archer had tried so hard tfencourat
d.ed agam out of his heart. Colonel BoZet
evidently judged him guilty, he thought and SS
Sear; ''-''''' - -^ - ">- unS ht
have been informed that you left the armytZtJy
? thaHri; r«^ ''" '"'''• °" ^--'^^y- October 6^
' Yes/ said Dick ; and then he told his story, adding,
"o THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
a» possible.' ^ '° "•' ''''"y " "Peedily
the K„d.e„ .„ attendance. ■ We will hear whaJshe
! teirhi^rDlck,'^'^ "'">""^' '"'^ -•'^ ^-"y. -Must
He was rather shocked at this open disrespect to
h.s dreaded commander, and said. ■ S^e dtsnTmea^
to ^be^rude. s.r ; ifs only she doesn't quite know who
Violet listened with wide-open eyes.
No. she said . I don't know. Who is he. Dick ? '
andbv 'r .^/'.' "'P'°'''^Sly.'VU tell'you by.
'Quite truly?' she asked in a whisper, but most
^Intfs^" ""^'^' ''' words, and^here .Tl
' Yes, truly," answered Dick
Colone Bouquet made no comment, but sent for
and stiXn "'!,""• ^"' ^' ^'''''''''^ ^"d f-'tered
and stumbled and contradicted himself till the officer
impatiently cut him short.
Bouquet's expression was severer than ever and
Dick m,sunderstandin, the cause of his anger begged
that Joseph Archer might be called. •°^Si,ca
THE COURT-MARTIAL ,„
' He knows me better than any one else in America.'
he added.
Archer in his narrative by no means spared Jim
and his accomplices ; and, to Dick's surprise and joy,
Colonel Bouquet not only pronounced him guiltless,
but shook hands with him before all his officers, and
told him 'he would make a good soldier after he had
had a little more training.'
Then he turned to Jim, who, to his great annoyance,
discovered that he was now in the position of the
culprit, and rebuked him so sharply that even the
usually shameless trapper scarcely dared to meet
his comrades' eyes when he was at last permitted to
depart.
As they left the tent, Dick passed him without
speakmg, but he muttered angrily:
'I'll be even with you, young feller. Yer needn't
think you've done with me yet.'
Violet heard his threats, and exclaimed :
' He is a wicked man I Why don't they kill him
Dick ? '
' Hush, Violet ; ladies don't talk of killing people
like that, and you know you arc an English lady
now." '
' But he tried to have you killed,' protested Violet
with truth. ' Why shouldn't you kill him f '
'Because it isn't right. The Bible says we are to
forgive our enemies,' answered Dick, thinking of dear
old Mrs. Marling, and wondering whether Violet's
wild notions would make her regret that the child
had been found. And then he was ashamed of
himself for fancying such a thing, for he knew that
Mrs. Marling was one of the most unseWsh women
in the world, and would only rejoice to have the
M !
'» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
nSd h1,ptt?e,r "''''"' ' "-' ^'-'^ -'^
Viokt^' '^° ^°" '"'^" ''y *" B'b'^'' demanded
Dick tried to explain; but it was more difficult
about God were so strange, and. as Dick thought
so .rreverent, that he hardly knew where to beSn
h.s mstruction. Moreover, he had Erordefed
to repm h.s comrades, and had no time for tSkTng
warS'hl'°"'^-"°' ^ '"^'^^ '° understand this, and
was highly mdignant when she was sent back to the
woman brought by Bouquet to look after the rescued
women and children. But when she found that crjS
and poutmg was of no use. she resigned herself t^ief
fate, and gave no further trouble. eii lo ner
CHAPTER XV
OUT OF BOUNDS
ALMOST immediately after Dick's case had been
deeded S.X Indians came to the English camp and
begged to see Colonel Bouquet. Their errand was to
tel him that their chiefs had assembled about eicht
miles away, and that they earnestly desired peace.
Bouquet replied that he would meet them next day
at a place two or three miles distant from the camp
In the meantime he ordered his men to build
a small stockaded fort, where the prisoners could
be left in safety ; for. in spite of the Indians' concilia-
tory tone, he meant to march still farther into their
country, to compel them to give up every one of
their captives. t- / u.
Dick and Joe Archer were working side by side
Did I not tell you there was no cause for alarm?'
said Archer. • I knew the colonel would not slaj
thee on Hunter Jim's word only.'
.-1,^^"'/°" "'^'■<= "ght this time,' said Dick, 'but I
still think you easily might have been wrong, for I
was a fool to go chasing the cattle, when it was none
of my business.'
' Yes, I agree with you there. You were bound to
lose yourself alone in the woods. However, all's well
that ends well.'
»4 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' Has it ended well ? ' said Dick. ' I have at least
the pleasure of knowing that that rascally hunt r
more mine enemy than before.'
■Nay better have his enmity than his friendship
of Zr^T"* ' '^'^ ''''''''■ ' Y°" think too much
of h.s .11 wishes towards you. For my part, I believe
that .f you put your trust in God, and honestly do
your duty. He will allow no evil t^ befaU you save
such as you need for your proper training Tut m!
mother would tell you I have no right to preaTh
rsL':wr^^"'^'^-^^-^---''t'>ed^aystf
art'^'i ^""u^' ''^San to hammer a stake into the
ground with such sounding blows that for a time
conversation was impossible.
When the noise stopped, Dick said slowly :
Ind I donri ': ^ "^'^ ^' ^'^' f°""d Molly,
done so.' "^ '''"' ' ^^""'"^ °therwise hav"^
' Vou can't be sure of that,' said Archer alwavs
ready to provoke an argument. ' If Colone BoS
should succeed in obtaining the release of all'the
captives amongst the Indians, your Molly would hive
come back with the rest; and I most firmly believe
if he Sad hr I ' '° '° •" '''' ''°°''' '' ^-" ^
U he had been born in the settlements.' His tone
was positively enthusiastic.
.u'"u^ ^^'^ ^^^" ^"'^h ^" one as General Braddock
the chances are that we should have been cut to
Luckily, Colonel Bouquet not only knows how to
guard against Indian surprises, but he sets a propl^
OUT OF BOUNDS
"S
value on experienced woodsmen, and does not trust
everything to the regulars, as if they were the only
soldiers who could fight.'
Dick agreed heartily with all that Archer said of
their commander, but another subject was weighing
heavily on his mind.
' Joe,' he said, after a pause. ' I have been thinking
that I ought to try to obtain proof that Violet is
really Molly Marling. You see, some day she will be
very rich ; and if all is not clear and plain, it may give
trouble afterwards. But what can I do ? '
'You are quite right, lad,' was Archer's reply • but
Dick waited in vain for the advice he expected
' What am I to do, Joe ? ' he repeated at last
There was a long silence ; then Archer said slowly •
' I really don't know, Dick.'
' I've been thinking I'll take her to see Mr Jevvett
when we get to Philadelphia,' said the lad, after
another interval of thoughtful consideration.
'Yes, but that won't be enough,' said Archer
How would it be to try to get some information out
ot Red-Star? I expect he will come up with the
rest of the chiefs to-morrow.'
'Yes, I will ; but do you suppose the Indians will
remember where they captured the different children ?
'I think it likely. You see, the savages don't spoil
their memories with trusting everything to books and
writing as we do. I have little doubt that Red-Star
can tell you when, where, and how he became
possessed of every prisoner in his camp. That is a
very small matter compared to what some of the
Indians can remember. Years ago, I often visited
their towns, and I have been astonished to hear the
old man who had charge of the wampum belts of
126 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
some tribe explain what each meant and when it
had been g.vea To me they looked much alike-
asked Did ' ' "''"P""' '''^■^ ■"^^" -y'hingp-
• It's a custom of the Indians to give one another
sei IT f r,''°"" "■«" P^P^« : I daresay youwm
To ti^ t ''^"\t°-'"°"°- if you are permUted o
tCs are r' • '•''^"' ^hat the Pennsylvanian
troops are to remam m camp.'
' How shall I see Red-Star, then ? ■ said Dick ' I
wonder .f I could get leave to go if I asked for it P '
I don t know. You might try,' replied Archer.
Long cultivation had rendered Archer's sense,
a most as acute as those of an Indian ; and [hat night
as he was cooking his supper over the camp fire
toeetht %T "^""^ T'' """'^^ J'™ whispering
together. Thav was nothing, for every one in the
amp knew that they were close friends; but when
fi A ^ u ''* "J"'*^ ^""'^'^"^ '■" hearing all he
seen Tim1,^T'-T'':^' ^''"'^"'^^ 'hat'he had
.n ^ ^ JT ^'"^^ him the moment after he
spoke to Dick of consulting Red-Star as to Violefs
parentage He determined to keep a strict watch
to" Sfck'for h' r'5 °°*'*"l°' '^'^ '^S- -^P-i-
to Dick, for he had no wish to add to his fears or
difficulties concerning Violet.
Jim and Sam were quartered in the next tent to
h.s own, and towards midnight Archer heard some
one st.rr.ng. He rose, and. peeping through a Zy
hole .n the tent, saw Turner glidfng awfy Hke a
snake into the darkness. ^ *
fulf nffh "'■!f "'? "^ ^ P™^""* °'^"' but he was so
full of the .dea that the two trappers were plotting
OUT OF BOUNDS „j
some mischief against the lad he had taken under
his protection that he cast away all thought of his
own safety. He crept noiselessly after Turner • and
seemg that he had passed the sentries, he wa;ched
his opportunity and followed him. though he was
perfectly well aware that he was exposfng himself
to the risk of severe punishment if discovered
Turner was evidently in haste, and. in spite of his
wish not to be observed, was no sooner fairly out of
hearing of the camp than he began to run along
the forest path as fast as he could go. Archer
fdlowed, determined at all hazards to keep him in
At last Turner lost his breath, and proceeded at
a more reasonable rate; but he still pressed on
and his pursuer wondered whether he was bent on
desertion, and, if so, whether he himself ought not
to make his way back at once, and try to regah,
his tent unseen. By this time he blamed his own
inconsiderate folly, and wished that instead of foUowine
Turner he had given the alarm. But curiosity and
obstinacy were both strong ; and though he was
!n"rt,r;'M ^'"^/f '"°' •'^^'"^ '^^ th^ camp at
all, he still followed his comrade-in-arms deeper into
the woods.
Suddenly Turner stopped and gave a low, peculiar
whistle^ The next moment three Indians Reared
from the shadows, but at this place the trees grew
so far apart that after all his trouble Archer could
not get near enough to them to hear what they
said. He could see something, however
His indignation was great when Turner emptied
his powder horn into those of the Indians. In like
manner he distributed amongst them several pounds
n8 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
of shot and bullets and tobacco ; then began a long
and earnest conversation.
Archer crept on his hands and knees a little nearer
to the group of black figures against the trees; but
though he guessed that one of the Indians was
Red-Star, he could not be sure, and fcr some time
he could hear nothing of importance.
•You ..ill not fail me?' he heard Turner say at
last. 'You see, it will not make the least difference
to you how we ' But the man dropped his voice
at the last word, and Archer could not catch it.
' Yes,' said the Indian, ' there's no doubt of it—
we carried her off from down by the Bear river.
The lad is quite mistaken.'
' Quite,' said Turner. ' The truth is, he don't mean
to go home without some girl. However, he ."han't
have my lass— that's clear.'
There was a loud laugh from the three Indians •
then Turner bade them a hasty farewell, and turned
to go back by the way he had come. Archer had
scarcely time to move out of his path, but he threw
himself flat on the ground, and lay like a log beneath
the shadow of a great tree until Sam had passed.
After giving him two minutes' start, Archer rose
and followed ; but Turner was walking so slowly that
he almost overtook him. At last he decided to make
a circuit and get ahead of him if possible ; but in the
meantime Sam quickened his steps, and they narrowly
missed a meeting that would have been awkward and
possibly dangerous for both.
As it was, Turner heard Archer's footsteps, and
even caught a glimpse of his thin figure ; but Joe
hoped that he had not had time to recognise him.
Archer found it more difficult to get back within
OUT OF BOUNDS ,,5
Ind"rr-*l" 'l>'' ''"™ '° ^'^^'^ them, and again
iTu" ,*'' •'''""'''' •'■■^ °^" folly as the sent V
walked backward and forward on h/appointedl7
At any moment Turner might come up ; but Archer
had the comfort of thinking that for hi^ own sake
he would hardly attempt to expose him. However
he aw nothrng of him. and at last contrived to crlwl
nis way unobserved to his own tent. As he lav
toSelfrt"h'" ?^ •"°^"'"^- '^ ^S--" confessed
to ftimself that his adventure had been utterly foolish
old soM '~T"' "°''^>'' '" f-*' °f Dick thaTof an
old soldier and woodsman like himself.
9.
CHAPTER XVI
AN UNLOOKED-FOR MEETING
Archer had been mistaken, and Dick had no need
to ask special permission to be present at Colonel
Bouquet's meeting with the Indians.
A large rustic bower of boughs and saplings had
been erected, and early in the morning the whole
army, with the exception of the few men left to guard
the camp, marched down the river. Bouquet well
knew the advantage of impressing the Indians with
the strength of the force at his command. He
accordingly drew up his little army in front of the
bower where he and his chief officers were awaiting
the chiefs in such a manner as to make the most
imposing effect
To the simple Indians it was indeed a sight to
be remembered. The glittering arms and the gay
uniforms of the Highland and Royal American
regiments impressed them with the wealth of their
adversaries, and the order and silence of the troops
awed them with a sense of resistless power.
But in their own way the forest warriors were as
proud as the haughtiest European nobles. Carefully
arrayed in barbaric ornaments wrested from the beasts
and birds of the woods, their faces painted in gaudy
colours and strange devices, the 'kings' of the
H
AN UNLOOKED-FOR MEETING 13 1
Delawarcs, Shawnecs, and Scnccas marched sternly
through the English troops, disdaining to cast a
glance on the great military display which had been
prepared for them. They brought with them eighteen
white prisoners, and were attended by about forty of
their braves. In the woods near by were hundreds
of other Indians longing yet fearing to attack the
white men, who had thus dared to force their way
into the country where they had hitherto held
undisputed sway.
The Indian ambassadors seated themselves on the
ground opposite the officers, and before the conference
opened they sat for a few minutes solemnly smoking.
Then Turtle-Heart rose. He was one of the chiefs
of the Delawares, and was spokesman of the embassy.
In his hand he had a bag containing several belts
of wampum, and he boldly addressed the dreaded
English leader as ' brother.'
' I speak,' he said, ' in behalf of the three nations,
whose chiefs are here present. With this belt I open
your hearts and your ears, that you may listen to
my words.'
He laid the blame of the raids on the wild young
men, and on the nations to the westward, and he
solemnly declared that it was now ' the will of the
Great Spirit that there should be peace.' He promised
that all the prisoners should be given up ; and as a
convincing proof of their sincerity, he then and there
delivered to the colonel the eighteen captives, whom
he and his brother-chiefs had brought to the council.
In a matter of such importance an immediate reply
would not have been according to Indian etiquette,
so the council was now adjourned to the following
day.
i3» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
The chiefs and their followers retired to their
encampment with an air of sullen dignity, but the
English army marched away joyfully. Many in the
ranks had been longing for the return of the prisoners
for years, and now it seemed that all would soon be
released.
Dick was disappointed to find that he was obliged
to stand like a statue at so great a distance from the
bower that he could hear nothing and see little of
the interview between Colonel Bouquet and the
chiefs.
• I had hoped to be able to get speech of Red-
Star,' he complained to Archer, when they again
reached the camp.
' You will have another chance, I doubt not,' said
Archer soothinj y ; 'but, lad, did you notice that
amongst the capl.ves brought back by the Delawares,
was another little white girl, to whom Mr. Jewett's
description might apply as well as to Violet ? '
' Yes,' said Dick,' I saw the child they call Sun-in-
the-Hair, and truly she has fair hair and blue eyes,
but I think no man could call her strikingly pretty."
'I don't know,' said Archer; 'were she nicely
attired, she would look better than many girls people
are ready enough to call handsome.'
'Oh, nonse.ise, Joe,' cried Dick, all the more
irritably, perhaps, because he too had once fancied
that Sun-in-the-Hair might be Molly. ' It can't be
that she is Molly. She is a regular little savage.
Mrs. Marling's grand-daughter couldn't act as she
does. Why, she spent one long morning in torment-
ing me.'
' What can you expect, lad ? Did you think, when
you came to seek her, that your Molly would show
AN UNLOOKED-FOR MEETING 133
nothing of her bringing up ? Why, even Miss Violet
ininks It no shame to lie to your face, and '
Dick turned impatiently upon him
.ul^°A'y'"''^?^- ^°" '*°""* "Hderstand-therc's
a^l the difference in the world between the two girls
Of course Violet needs teaching, but Sun-in-the-Hair
couldnt be more cruel if she had been Hunter Jim's
daughter. "^
' It's of no use getting so hot, lad-only I would
have you prepare for disappointment. You may not
be able to establish Violet's claim to Mr. Mariing's
"olIderT- ^°''""^' ' '^°"''''' ^^^ '' S°'"e on
'Come and see,' said Dick, not unwilling to change
the subject. "
A crowd of Pennsylvanian men, who had lost wives
or children in the Indian raids, had pressed round
the little group of released captives, and were eagerly
scanning their faces. Some of the children, who had
spen almost all their lives amongst the dark-skinned
people of the forests, were screaming with terror at
the white men. Of the older captives, some looked
anxious, others listless, and a few sullen
Violet had made her way into the midst of the
group, and was hanging on Mrs. Freeland's neck,
sobbing for joy to see her again. On the other hand,
bun-m.the-Hair was screeching and dancing like a
little fury, because her new protectors would not let
her run off into the forest.
'Look at that girl,' cried Dick, pointing out
Sun-in-the-Hair with all the old disgust
'She is greatly to be pitied,' said the older man.
You are hard on her, Dick. How can she know
i)etter ?
i >
I
134 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' But look at Violet," replied Dick. ' Why should
she be so much gentler ? They have had the same
training.'
Archer did not answer. A far-away look had come
into his face, and Dick fancied that he did not see
those on whom his eyes were resting. Doubtless his
thoughts were full of his own ruined home. Perhaps
he was thankful that his children were not amongst
the little white savages who shrank in terror from
their own kith and kin ; perhaps he was not sorry
now that they were dead.
Dick still had his eyes and thoughts fixed on
his friend, when a strange thing happened. A wild
cry rang through the woods ; and a woman, one of
the rescued, pushed her way through the crowd, and
threw her arms round Archer's neck.
'Joseph!' she screamed, 'don't you know me?
Oh I don't you know me ? '
Archer looked in bewilderment at the poor creature,
and tried to draw himself away from her frantic
embrace. She let him go, and, dropping her arms
by her sides, murmured sadly :
' I should have known you anywhere, but I forgive
you for not knowing me. They tortured me at first
till I scarcely knew myself.'
Joseph pushed back his hair from his forehead
with a puzzled look, and gazed intently at the
scarred face and grey hair of the woman before
him.
' Who are you ? ' he demanded. ' Woman, speak
plainly.'
'Don't you know your own wife, Joseph?' she
said falteringly.
' My wife has been in heaven these nine years.'
AN UNLOOKEO-KOR MEI IING 135
' Nay, she has been on earth, in a place of torture,'
was the reply.
Archer still stared at her, with his hands fast
clenched together, and his face whiter than Dick had
ever seen it before.
'Joseph,' repeated the woman, 'I was once Bessy
Morison — don't you remember ? '
Strange to say, the sound of his wife's maiden
name suddenly convinced him that the worn, scarred
woman, in her miserable rags, was really his wife.
He tried to speak, but his parched lips made no
sound, and he still stared at her with the same fixed
look.
It was a hard moment for the poor thing, who for
years had dreamt of this hour of meeting as the
one thing to live for. With a great and ' exceeding
bitter cry' she suddenly flung herself down at his
feet, sobbing as if her heart would brcik.
This brought Joseph to his senses. He stooped
and lifted her up.
' Hush, Bessy ; don't weep so,' he murmured. ' It
was only that it seemed too good to be true. I never
I > v^d for one moment that you were dead, or do
) ' ■ nk that I would have left you all these years
in misery ? '
' Joseph, the children are all dead ! ' moaned the poor
mother. ' I could not save them."
' No, no, Bessy. Come away, my poor girl ! ' And
taking his wife by the arm. Archer led her out of the
crowd.
Dick did not see him again that day, but when
next he met him he looked a different man.
' I never dared, Dick, to hope for such mercy,' he
cried. ' Indeed, it is most wonderful that she has
136 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
lived through all. I am more glad I came hither with
you than I can say. I don't know how to thank the
Lord for sending you to us and touching my hard
heart with a desire to help you.*
Dick said nothing, but he pressed his friend's
extended hand.
'Neither shall I ever cease to feel grateful to
Colonel Bouquet,' continued Archer. ' If it hadn't
been for his firmness, my Bessy might have gone on
livmg m her wretchedness amongst the Delawares for
many a long year. But, oh, Dick, she is so changed !
The last time I saw her she looked as young and
pretty as Violet yonder.'
CHAPTER XVII
SUKEY OR MOLLY
When morning dawned, the rain was pouring from
a leaden sky, that promised no early break in the
storm, so the second meeting with the Indian chiefs
had to be postponed.
Everybody was disappointed, and through the long
deary day there was much grumbling over the dis-
comforts of camp life and the bad weather.
The women appointed to take charge of the
released prisoners had no easy task. The children
were fretting for the dark-skinned guardians who
were the only parents they had known, and their
elders were so anxious and excited that they could
neither rest nor do the little work that was needed.
Sun-in-the-Hair alternately teased her companions
and moped in one corner of the tent. Violet tried to
talk to her, but she was so cross that it seemed
impossible to bear with her.
' When are they going to let me go back to the
camp ? I hate palefaces ! ' she exclaimed.
• I am glad I am a white woman,' replied Violet, in
the Delaware dialect, which was the only language
Sun-in-the-Hair understood.
She had never fraternised with those of her own
race in Red-Star's town ; and having rudely repulsed
\\\
138 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Mrs. Freeland's advances towards her, had missed
learning the little that Violet knew.
' I hate palefaces I ' repeated Sun-in-the-Hair ' I
want to go back to Red-Star. I won't go with
the soldiers.'
' But Dick says we shall have everything we like if
we go with them.' said Violet, applying the young
mans magnificent promises more broadly than he
had intended.
,il{f°"^ '^^''^- ' ^°"'' 2°'" persisted the child,
i'ah ! get away. I hate you. nasty paleface I '
Sun-in-the-Hair was so rude and violent, and was
so determmed to make her companion as miserable
as herself, that at last Violet fled out into the
rain.
She amused herself for a while by swinging from a
strong branch just within reach of her hands ■ but
when she stopped for breath she was vexed to hear
some one say :
' Bravo, missy ! you're a rare active youngster. I'll
make yer a swing as soon as it goes fine.'
'Who are you?' demanded Violet, looking over
her shoulder at the speaker.
'My name's Sam Turner, lassie, an' I like gels like
you. You've got a real pretty face.'
This compliment mollified Violet, in spite of her
distrust of the man's appearance, and she turned to
look at him.
'Well, my maid, an' what d'ye think o' me?" asked
Sam at last.
' I don't like you. I'm going to Dick,' was the
answer.
' Nay, now, missy— what have I done ? Look here,
what I've got in my pocket for you.' And Turner
SUKEY OR MOLLY
139
dangled before her eyes a long string of bright blue
beads.
They were beautiful in Violet's estimation, and she
put out her hand to take them ; then drew it back.
' I'm an English lady, Dick says,' she said proudly,
' and English ladies don't like beads.'
'Don't they, though? That's all he knows. Don't
you believe him, little un. Here, catch; they'd
become you wonderful. See, they're all ready to
hang round yer neck, or twist up in yer hair.'
He threw them towards her, but Violet let them
fall at her feet.
* Dick doesn't like them,' she repeated ; but in spite
of herself there was an accent of wond t in her tone.
Sam changed his tactics.
'So yer mean to do all that lad tells yer— eh,
missy ? ' he said with a sneer.
' Yes,' said Violet. = He's good— he knows a lot ;
but in the woods I know best, and then I tell
him.'
' Oh, so that's the way, is it ? Well, did he ever
tell yer not to eat sweets? Here's some lovely
sugar-candy. See, it's jest what little gels like.'
Violet hesitated, but at last condescended to accept
the stick of candy he held towards her, and during
the rest of the conversation held it in one hand, and
nibbled at it with undisguised enjoyment.
' It's good,' she said after a while.
'That's why I brought it to yer,' said Sam. 'Do
yer know what yer name is ? '
'Dick calls me Violet, but he says he ought to
call me Molly— Molly Marling,' the girl answered
promptly.
'Oh, that's all a mistake. Master Dick don't
I
'40 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
mT"- *' f'^^ty Tumer-that's what it is.'
It isn't It's Molly Marling'
bukey. I m go.n' to have yer come an' hVe with me
an you shall have lots of candy ' '
Violet looked troubled, but repeated •
I m Molly, and it's wicked to say I'm not Dick
?rn;l^^^*°*^""-'-'''--rgoin*gto°l^
'It ain't lies, my gel. Why, all these years since
you was took away I've been looking fur yer an'
now I'm a-going to take yer right home.' ^ '
I m gomg to England with Dick '
' No, no, Sukey. I wants yer awful bad.'
m not Sukey, and I'm going to Dick now.'
So saymg she ran off through the rain, calling
the tents to their doors to see what the matter
' Dick, where are you ? ' she called.
««,« ■"*•' u"*^ ^'""^^ ™""'"e *° meet her. 'Has
some one hurt you, Violet?'
'A man has been telling me lies' she ^,iA
.ndignantly. 'He says I'm Sukey Turn'er ' ""
Sukey wAai ? '
' ^ell'mJ^T. .I,"" ^ "°* ^""y M«'''"g' Dick ?•
Tell me all that happened, Violet. But first let
us go somewhere out of the rain. Look, there is a
nice httle shelter by yonder fire where th; m^n hL
been cook,„g their bn=akfasts. You will get dry
The fire in question was rapidly being put out by
the ram, and was smoking fearfully ; but Violet had
SUKEY OR MOLLY ,4,
been used to smoke all her life, and did not object
to It, if It was not excessively thick.
She cuddled down on a dry spot of ground between
some sacks of meal or flour, while Dick seated himself
close by on a small log.
• Now, Violet, tell me all about it,' he said again
' Well, the women and babies in the big tent were
cross, and Sun-in-the-Hair called me ugly names ; so
I ran out mto the woods. I didn't mind the rain a
bit, and I was swinging from a big branch, when a
man spoke to me-one of the Pennsylvanian men,
Kck He pulled out a big, long string of beads,
and he wanted me to take them ; but I told him no
you didn t like them, and that English ladies didn't
wear beads.
•That's right,' said Dick approvingly. 'Always
remember that you are an English lady, Violet.
What happened next?'
Violet did not answer for a moment, but gazed
mto the smoky fire with her chin on her hands
and her elbows on her knees.
•Dick,' she said at length, 'do English ladies like
candy ? '
' Some of them do,' replied Dick. • Why ? '
'Because he gave me some, and I ate it,' replied
the girl. ' You know you never told me not to eat
candy.
' No ; but if I were you I would never take anything
from that man.' ^
'Why not, Dick ? ' said Violet, opening her eyes
• Because he isn't good."
' I should have thought, Dick, that, if he isn't good,
I might take his things all the more. Bad people
ought not to have nice things, I think.'
i4» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Dick found it difficult to explain his views on
the acceptance of presents ; but Violet gazed at him
inquiringly, till he said:
' You see, this is the way of the thing. If you
take his things, he'll feel as if you ought to give him
something back.'
'But I haven't anything to give,' objected Violet.
Well, you may be sure he will want something
even for that candy,' muttered Dick. • He's not the
sort of fellow to make presents for nothing.'
'Shall you want something for all the things you
give me?' asked Violet, to Dick's perplexity 'I
never thought of that'
• No, no ; I like tb give you things,' he said—' that's
quite different. But never mind that now. I want
to hear what happened after you took the candy.'
' Well, then, he said my name was Sukey Turner
and that he'd been looking and looking for me, and
that I was his own little girl, and would have to go
and live with him, and that he'd give me lots of
candy.'
' That was not true,' said Dick.
' No, I told him my name was Molly Marling and
that I was going to England with you, and that it
was wicked of him to tell lies.'
' Yes, that was right ; but, Violet, don't run off alone
mto the woods again. He might try to make you live
with him.'
' I wouldn't go,' said Violet defiantly. < I'd run
away from him.'
' Perhaps you wouldn't be able to get away, Violet-
so don't talk to him, or go near him. Promise me ' '
' Well, I promise. I hate him, Dick.'
It rained all that day, and all the next; and
SUKEY OR MOLLY ,43
forgetful of Dick's warnings, Violet again escaped
from the crowded tent into the woods, and was again
followed by Sam Turner. ^
'That's my good little gel!' he exclaimed, with a
disagreeable smile, as she turned and saw him ' See
here's another fine large stick o' candy, and a red
ribbon, fit for the Queen o' England herself
But Violet put both hands behind her, and would
have passed him without a word, when he caught
her arm. ^
' Hey, Sukey-wh.it's the meaning o' this ? Little
gels shouldn't show bad tempers ; it ain't pretty'
' Dick said I mustn't talk to you. and I won't,' she
said, suddenly breaking away from him, and runnine
at full speed back to her refuge in the women's tent
bam Turner followed more slowly, scowling darklv
and muttering : *" ^'
' I'll pay the young cub for his insolence ! '
CHAPTER XVIII
IV/fAT RED-STAR SAID
On the third morning after the meeting between
Colonel Bouquet and the Indians, the rain ceased, the
clouds cleared away, and the sun shone brightly over
the turbid and swbllen river.
For the second time the troops were drawn out
in martial array in front of the bower, where the
English commander received the chiefs of the savages.
He had come to give them his answer to their speeches,
and they waited with well-concealed anxiety to hear
what he had to say.
He would not deign to call them 'brothers,' but
addressed them as ' Sachems, war-chiefs, and warriors,'
and reproached them with their bad faith and their
cruelties. He warned them that the army would
remain in the country till all the captives were given
up, adding, ' I have brought with me the relations of
the people you have massacred or taken prisoners.
They are impatient for revenge, and it is with great
difficulty that I can protect you against their just
resentment, which is only restrained by the assurances
given them that no peace shall ever be concluded
until you have given us full satisfaction.'
He required them to deliver up all their prisoners
within the next twelve days, and to furnish them with
II
WHAT RED-STAR SAID
US
clothing, provisions, and horses for their journey to
Fort Pitt ; but added that, if they faithfully kept the
conditions imposed on them, they might hope for
peace and mercy.
With sullen, dejected faces, the chiefs promised
obedience ; but if they had not been over -awed by the
strength of Bouquet's forces, they would certainly
have attacked him then and there.
Again Dick had no opportunity of speaking to
Red-Star, and that afternoon Sam Turner came up
to where he was standing with Joseph Archer, and
exclaimed in a loud angry tone :
' I've something to say to yer, lad, an' I don't care
who hears it The gel you call Molly Marling is my
daughter, an' I ain't a-goin' to have you settin' her
agin me.'
' I don't believe it,' said Dick.
'Oh, don't yer? But pray what difference does
that make ? She's my gel, an' I'm going to have her.
She was carried off by the Injins nine years ago ; an'
now, when I do find her, this 'ere wretched young
rascal is a-turning her against her poor old father.
What would you 'a' felt,' he added, turning to Archer,
' if yer wife had come back an' refused to speak to
yer?'
Archer made no direct answer, but a;ked :
' How can you prove that the child is yours, sir ? '
' How can he prove that the child is that Molly he
talks of?'
' I hope to be able to prove it soon,' said Dick,
trying to speak calmly. ' Probably Red-Star could
tell us something of her ? '
' Will yer agree to abide by what the old Injun
says ? ' said Sam eagerly.
10
.46 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
j^ '.I^ don't «iy that- «.d Dick; -it depends what
• What I yer mean that if he says she's your Mollv
Dick was silent. Stated in that way, his attitude
against Violets being put into the power of this bad
belwerusri/f S"^"'^*''" Red-Star decide
pj:ertiy;st5^.^tr;^kS
p^r-srs^k^^^^s^tS
bargain, fair and square, ain't it ?' "°«'-*''«'' a
askiS dS' "" ''"°"^' ' '"' "''>' ^° y°" -»"' her ? '
' Because she's my gel-what else ? '
'I wish you'd give up bothering her,' said Dick
Jou know very well she wouldn't be happy S
'I don't know any such thing. If that's .-'■ von
may make yer mind easy.' s . .., you
'You're not fit to have anything to do with her'
said Dick getting angry as he thought T SaS
cruelty to him in Philadelphia. • As I fav iL
she's Molly Marling; but'even if she isS yo" shal!
never get her if I can help it.' ^
'Ohverywer we'll see about that I ain't a-coin'
IthttrT ° "^ '-' ''-' ^" ^- >'-- "St
A few minutes later Dick received a peremptory
summons to appear before Colonel Bouquet ^^
What can be the matter?' he said to Joseph
WHAT RED-STAR SAID ,^j
happened was close at hand, for he w^ o„e of the
^KK?;S:----'ed.e.ha^^^
cmdJ^.olet,but the .an brought Sun-in-the-Ha^by
the coS'' '''' '°" '='"■'" " ^°"^ "-ehter ? ' asked
abli^ihilri? ^""'"- ' ''' "°*'''' """= '-
rrf ^thT*"^"' ""^ ^'=^°'-d'"gly sent to seek Violet
In the meantime Bouauet maH^ «,„. • • •
about Sun-in-the-Hair. *"•' '"''"'"^''
'Who claims her?' he asked.
No one sir, as far as I knows,' said Turner ' She',
a reg'lar wild little savawi. ci,! j .. , ™*
o- English, sir.' ^ ^^^ ''°" ' '*"°* "^ *°^d
tuZg^o^Ld'Sar "T^lf ' ' --^^^ Bouq-t,
XI, u- ^ Where was she taken?'
whl^^hehadT'".'"'"^' ^''^^ ''^ '''''' - '•"«
Hat"«5L"r.*^ "^^ '^•"g «l'«'="s''ed Sun-in-the-
Ha.r stood b.tmg her nails, and looking out from
148 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
under the tangle of bright curls that had given her
her name with an expression of mingled curiosity
and wonder.
A moment later Violet was brought into the great
tent, where the colonel was holding his informal little
court.
' So this is the girl about whom there is so much
dispute ? • said Bouquet, looking at her attentively,
' I think, little maid, I have seen you before ? '
' Yes, sir,' said Violet ; ' and, oh, please let me go to
England with Dick ! '
'Not so fast, my child; we must see whom you
really belong to. Perhaps Chief Red-Star can
tell us.'
Thus appealed to, the Indian gave a long, rambling
account of a raid on one of the settlements nine years
ago. He described with impudent zest the slaughter
of several white men, and the torture of their wives
and children, and declared that Violet had been
carried off from the place Sam Turner had spoken
of on Williams Creek. Altogether his evidence was
a remarkable confirmation of Turner's story.
Dick's face fell, and the observant colonel said, ' I
see, my lad, that you are satisfied that you have
made a mistake.'
' Nay, sir, I'm not satisfied. Please ask the Indian
if he knows anything of the daughter of a settler at
at the head of Bear Creek who was killed about the
same time. He was an Englishman, and his name
was Robert Marling. There was just one little girl
in the family."
Red-Star answered without hesitation that the
child had only lived a year after she was captured.
' I wish I knew if he was speaking the truth,' said
WHAT RED-STAR SAID 149
Dick sadly. ' Indians do tell such lies. Oh, Mrs.
Marling will be grieved, if I have to go back and
tell her this I And I was quite sure th.i* "iolet
was Molly.'
Bouquet, busy though he was, was a good deal
interested in the case by this time. He asked Dick
many questions about his journey, and about those
who had sent him.
•So you hoped that Violet yonder was to be a
great heiress?' he said.
' Yes,' said Dick ; ' I was sure she was Molly, and
I promised her all kinds of fine things. But, indeed,
I can't believe Red-Star is telling the truth.'
' I am sorry for you, lad,' replied the soldier, ' but I
have no doubt of it whatever, and I shall be obliged
to give the child into her father's custody.'
'But, sir, he is hard and cruel and not honest.'
And Dick plunged into a somewhat confused account
of his ill-usage in Philadelphia. ' It would be better
for Violet to die than to live with him,' he finished
incoherently.
' Nay, lad— why should he want the child, unless he
means to treat her kindly? I wish you well in your
search for Molly Marling, but I have no right nor
power to separate parent and child.'
Then he turned to Violet, and Dick had the
mortification of hearing her exhorted to behave as
a good and dutiful daughter to Turner.
' But, sir, Dick told me I was not to speak to him,'
protested Violet, shrinking away from Sam as he
advanced towards her.
' Dick has made a mistake,' said Colonel Bouquet.
' You must be a good girl and do what your father
tells you.'
ISO THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
vioStiif *" '^"''*"' "**' °'^''' ^"""^ ^
' I fear not, my girl. Dick has made a mistake.'
I wanted to be an English lady,' said Violet, as
Turner took her hand, and led her away, with her
head hangmg down, as if she had received a terrible
blow; and indeed she had. But Sam's disagreeable
face wore a look of triumph that promised ill for the
daughter he was so determined to claim
Before they reached the tent where the women
were lodged Dick passed them, and Sam took the
opportunity to remark :
•Now, Sukey, don't you ever dare to speak to
that young feller again. He ain't fit to havV aught
to do wi' ye. Do yer hear ? ' ^
; Yes,' said Violet, ■ but it's not true. Dick's good '
or S^ll^r '^*'' *? «nt^adick yer father, my lass,
or 11 be the worse fur yer. If yer a good gel, you
shall have some real pretty beads and lots o' candy •
Sukey'^°" ''°"'* '"'""^ ^^^^ ' '^^" '■" "'^'^^ y°"'
f T^f\"'f ' ^'"^ '** Mrs. Freeland, and asked her
to tell Violet not to despair.
■I am quite sure Colonel Bouquet has made a
mistake, he said. 'I know she's Molly Marline
Turn? ^° *° ^"^'*"'' ^*'' '" *P''^ °^ Sam
But Violet lay in her little bunk sobbing bitterly
and even Mrs. Freeland could not comfort her
' I'd sooner be Red-Star's daughter than that ugly
mans she moaned ; <but Dick says I'm Molly, and
I won't do what Sam Turner says.'
theYnd' ""^ '^^'' ' *'''"'* '' '^'" ^" ~"'*' "eht in
WHAT RED-STAR SAID
'SI
Violet shook her head.
' I don't believe it will," she sobbed. ' I never
thought Colonel Bouquet would tell lies too. It's
wicked of him to say I'm Sukey.'
'But, my dear, I fear you must be Sukey,' said
Mrs. Freeland. ' There, don't cry.'
After that Violet would not say another word ; and
when the woman went to look at her an hour later,
she pretended to be asleep or really was asleep ; and
Mrs. Freeland fancied that she was already becoming
resigned to her disappointment.
CHAPTER XIX
THE CHAIN OF PEACE
Dick saw nothing of Violet all the next day; but
th.nk.„g^she fea,ed Turner's anger, n,ade no in^rie!
Late in the afternoon, however, Mrs. Freeland
ca^e^to speak to hi., saying, 'Have you se^n
• No. Isn't she with the other girls ? '
Mrs. Freeland shook her head
Jfil "'^ ""^ ^"^^^"'^ *° ^^ ^^^" *hen we got
to-day.^ '"°''"'"^' '"'' ^'•^ ^^^"'' "^^ -t -ny meal
'I wonder if that wretched Turner has hidden
her away anywhere?' « "laaen
' I think not. He came to ask after her, and was
very angry when we couldn't find her.'
* I wonder if she has run away ? ' said Dick
Perhaps she has gone into the woods. She said
S„ Mf Tur^r^^ -"^- >- ^^^-^-'^ 4S
^^•I think,' said Dick, -that I will ask leave to seek
He went accordingly to Colonel Bouquet's tent but
his request was refused. ^ ' "'
i
THE CHAIN OF PEACE ,53
As he returned to his own quarters he met Archer,
and said bitterly :
'It seems hard that I may not go to seek her,
when that is what I came to do. After all, I don't
see that I am of any use in the camp'
I 'a^"'^! !;' 'f*^*' *•"*" y°" *°"'«1 be in the woods,
lad, said Archer grimly. 'I think it is just as well
she should be away if she is to be forced to accept
Turner as her father.'
• Then you don't believe it ? ' said Dick eagerly.
No, I don't Have patience, Dick. The truth
will come out some day.'
' Have you got any proof that Turner is lying ?
asked Dick. ^
• I have and I haven't,' replied Joseph oracularly
I wish that you would tell the colonel what you
know. He was somewhat annoyed with me to-day
for asking leave to seek the child, but I am sure
he would listen if you know anything of importance.'
There are difficulties in the way of my speaking,'
said Joe slowly, 'but I'll see.'
•Colonel Bouquet says it's none of my business
where Violet goes or what she does,' said Dick in
an injured tone, 'but indeed I think it is.'
■I daresay he'll say it's none of mine either,' said
Archer. ' However, I'll risk it.'
But Dick was surprised to see that he passed and
repassed the colonel's tent several times before he
cou.d make up his mind to seek admittance
Colonel Bouquet kept him waiting some minutes
before he spoke to him. When he came at last
ne said quickly:
'Now, my good fellow, I have but a few minutes
to spare. What do you want ? '
T54 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' It's about this girl Violet, sir.'
'What! do you claim her too? She seems to
have bewitched you all.'
' No, sir, only I happen to know that Red-Star and
Sam Turner have some kind of plot together about
her.'
'How do you know it?' demanded Bouquet
sharply.
Archer gave a sort of gulp, as if something were
choking him.
The fact is, sir, he went out of the camp several
nights ago, and met Red-Star in the woods. They
talked the thing over together, and as far as I could
hear Turner asked Red-Star to say the girl was his.'
Bouquet frowned.
' As far as you could hear ? So you left the camp
too without leave?'
'Yes, sir,' said Archer humbly. ' I know I was
a fool.'
•A soldier who can't obey orders is worse than
a fool. Here am I doing my utmost to bring the
Indians to their senses, and you roust go and risk
everything by such child's tricks as these.*
Archer waited, wondering what would be the result
of his confession.
Presently Bouquet continued :
' You all seem determined that this Turner shall not
have the child ; but do you really know anything
against him ? '
'He is well known to be one of the frreatest
ruffians in Philadelphia, sir. He and his "friends
nearly murdered Dick Herriot, in the hope of forcing
him to make over some of his master's money to
them.'
THE CHAIN OF PEACE
^S5
'Well, if the girl comes back, I will inquire
further into the case,' said Bouquet impatiently.
'But understand, I cannot and will not have you
or any one else wandering off without orders. The
savj^es are even now waiting for an excuse to
fall upon us, instead of bringing back their
captives.'
' How did you get on ? ' said Dick, who was waiting
when Archer left his commander's presence.
'Better than I might have expected, Dick. The
fact is I was fool enough to slip by the sentries
the other night, and to follow Turner into the woods,
where he met Red-Star.'
' Ah ! then there is a plot between them. Why
didn't you tell me before, Joe ? '
Because I couldn't talk of it without endangering
my neck,' said Archer. ' I had no tiore right than
Turner to go out of bounds.'
'Well, will the colonel give his consent to our
seeking Violet ? '
* No, but he says, if she comes back, he will look
into her case again.'
' That won't bring her back,' said Dick indignantly.
' Sometimes, Joe, I think I ought to seek her, let
Colonel Bouquet say what he will.'
Archer was much alarmed at this suggestion.
' It would be madness, Dick. The Indians would
surely bring you back again, and our colonel as
surely would have you shot without mercy. He is
not a man to be trifled with, my lad.'
'But is not the finding of Molly my first duty?'
said Dick obstinately. ' Why, that's what I came to
America for, and I can't go back to Mrs. Mariing
and tell her I've seen the child, but wouldn't
'56 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLV MARLING
take the necessary trouble to carry her home with
J^a'u''^' ""y^^^ "^ °''^«"«t'= and pig-headed?'
s.f iJ-ct !;■ r^'^PWsing a great tree.*^ 'D^t yL
will it be fo M Z ,■ ^' *"'' "'^at comfort
deser^'edXatr^"""^ "^^ ^°" ''^ '" -""
Dick winced at this plain speaking.
You talk of Molly's recovery being your first
duty continued Archer. ■ Bu; donWou /ee
that^the moment you enlisted it became" y^^^
asZggler" '°" '^^^ "^ '^' ^°">' go -thout
' No Have patience-that is all. Besides vn„
don^know that Violet is Molly. even^^S' iS
tha?h!^ r^\u° T^^'- "« ^^ t'"«d of saying
ssived -r Hoi::^'ir h^^^"^- ^-^ '''''^"
thaf !,» nowever, Archer had conv need him
It Lfianra"„d '"*"'' '" ""'"^ '"'^ — -'"
at defiance, and gomg to seek the lost girl in spite
Bouquet was de.rmined to To hfs It.'^^^^J^
Two or three days later they reached a suitabk
camping-ground, about a mile from the forks of 7h.
c uster of large Indian villages. Here Bouquet set
housTfo^tTe^oV" '^'"V''^ ^^°""''' -'^ '« ^""-^
nouses for the officers and captives, and redoubts for
THE CHAIN OF PEACE ,57
mt^f^Vi *''' """P- ^" * """'y ^"^ '^''y a busy
little town had sprung up in the wilderness, and every-
thing, even to the building of a council-house, had
been prepared for the meetings between the white
commander and the 'kings' of the redmen.
The chiefs whom Colonel Bouquet still kept with
him were sullen and unwilling witnesses of his
proceedings, but as they watched their respect for
his power and authority increased
, Jm' ^i"""*"'?* *^'" ^^^ "^^ """P ^«« established
h^,?i^"'^°^?"'°"''' "'"^ •■" "^"^y' »"d soon the
houses provided for them were full.
Dick scanned the faces of the new-comers eagerly,
hoping against hope that Violet might return; but the
days passed, and she did not make her appearance.
He made many inquiries amongst the prisoners about
her, but none of them had seen her, whilst the
Indians of Red-Star's camp declared that she had
not gone back to them.
Dick was in despair, but all around him there was
great rejoicing, for many a man besides Archer had
recovered his wife and children, and in some cases
whole families had been reunited after years of
separation. On the other hand, some who had made
the long journey through the wilderness with hearts
full of hope, learnt at last, after sickening suspense
that those they loved had passed away ^ '
arrS^ .1 *'*""' "'''"" * ^'''^ P^'^ °^ P^^oners
h r ' }IJT"^ "^^ """^^ P^'"*""!- Men ran
hither and thither vainly seeking some friend they
had lost, asking questions, which those they addressed
were too excited to answer, and weeping bitterly
when at last assured that the time for hope w^
over. "^
«S8 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
The Indians, too, showed the kc«,est regret on
havn,g to part with the captives who had T onj
they tore themselves from the chnging arms of
hole fhrf r' ''"' "'«' '^'"*""--' -"the'
home than the wigwam of the forest; and even
the stern warriors, who scorned to let fall a tear
cou^d not conceal their grief on being forced to S
.^I'f*.'^'/" *'"' P"soners who could possibly be
chVefs anH^"l"°^ '°''''"''^ '« *'«^«' *ith the
and hi, ffi °" ' '"1°"*^ ^''"^^y °' November he
and his officers assembled in the rustic conference-
house o boughs and unhewn tree-trunks to m«t the
Indian ' kmgs ' and their warriors.
tSI^^T u ^'"^'^ 'hief, was the first speaker,
he said :'" "' ' "'""^ °' '''^'^^ ""^^^ ^f^heli
-Brothers, with this belt of wampum we wipe the
ears from your eyes. We gather together and' b^t
all the bones of the people that have been killed
during this unhappy war. which the Evil Sp S
occasioned amongst us. We cover the bones E
have been buried, that they may never be remembered
We again cover the place with .eaves, that it may
a"n7;h'"":.'K "'"• ^^ "^ have bee; long IstTa?
and the path between you and us has been stopped
we extend this belt, that it may be again clea d'S
Tnce?^ r '? ^"'^ '° ""^ °'"- '''^'hren, as our
ancestors formerly did. While you hold it fast by
one end, and we by the other, we shall always be able
to discover anything that may disturb our friendship '
THE CHAIN OF PEACE 159
* I have heard you with pleasure,' answered the
colonel, -and I join in burying the bones of those
who have fallen in the war, so that their place shall
no more be known. The peace you ask for you
shall now have. The king, my master and your
father, has appointed me only to make war, but he
has other servants who are employed in the work
of peace, and to them you are to go.' And Bouquet
explained the steps they were to take that the peace
might be concluded ; then, to the great joy of the
assembled Indians, he took the chiefs by the hand
for the first time since he had appeared amongst
them.
Two or three days later there was a great
conference with the chiefs of the Shawnees. On
that occasion there were more than a hundred
warriors present, and the speech of the Indian Red-
Hawk was a strange mixture of pride and submission.
'Brother,' he said, 'you will listen to us, your
younger brothers. We now wipe away everything
that is bad between us, that you may clearly see.
You have heard bad stories of us ; we clear your ears
that you may hear. We remove everything bad
from your heart, that it may be like the heart of your
ancestors, when they thought of nothing but good.'
And to accomplish all these strange results the chief
solemnly presented to Bouquet a belt of wampum.
' Brother,' he continued, ' when we saw you coming
this road, you advanced towards us with a tomahawk
in your hand ; but we, your younger brothers, take it
out of your hands and throw it up to the Great Spirit
to dispose of as He pleases, and thus we hope never
to see it more. Now, brother, we beg that you,
who are a warrior, will take hold of this chain of
i6o THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
friendship' (once more symbolised by a string of
wampum), 'and receive it from us who are also
warriors, and let us think no more of war, in pity to
our old men, women, and children.'
Thus the Indians at last submitted, and probably
Dick was almost the only person in camp who felt
Jnchned to think their bloodless campaign a failure;
for he still heard no news of Violet
CHAPTER XX
A MOCK TRIAL
The English army did not leave their camp near the
forks of the Muskingum for nearly a week after
Bouquet's conference with the Shawnee warriors.
During this time the Indian friends of the rescued
white people came constantly to the camp, bringing
them food and other presents. Red-Star and his
people were constant visitors.
For some reason Sam Turner avoided the Dela-
ware chief, though be was evidently anxious to have
an interview with the trapper. At last Red-Star
and old Poison- Arrow came into the camp one
evening, when the men were all lounging about the
fires, exclaiming in his own dialect, which many
of the soldiers understood, 'Where is that rascal
Turner ? '
Half a dozen hands were officiously pointed
towards the figure of a man disappearing roup . the
comer of a tent, and half a dozen voices shouted
in chorus, 'Sam! Sam Turner I an old gentleman
wants yer.'
'He's deaf,' said one. 'We'll have some fun.
Let's make him come.'
After a scuffle, which, though good-humoured
i6a THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
enough on the part of his two assailants, was taken
somewhat seriously by Sam, they brought the
trapper back to a spot where the firelight fell full
on his face.
•Look here,' suggested one jolly red-faced fellow,
' we'll hold a court-martial. Who'll we have for the
colonel ? '
' I'll be colonel,' cried out a tall, thin woodsman
from Virginia, with a face so melancholy in expres-
sion that even the recovery of its owner's wife and
children had scarcely perceptibly lightened its gloom.
' Where's the conference-house? '
One of his friends rushed at him, and pushed him
backwards on to a log, exclaiming, ' The conference
house is right here I'
The Virginian was presently supported by two
men on his right, and two on his left, representing
Bouquet's chief officers.
The Indian watched all this preparation doubt-
fully ; but the excessive solemnity of the self-elected
judge deceived him, and he believed that the
mock tribunal before him was really preparing,
in the noisy, undignified fashion which the
traditions of his race ascribed to the white men,
to hear his complaint, and perhaps to do him
justice.
Sam Turner, on the other hand, struggled to
escape ; but his comrades, with shouts and laughter,
held him fast. At length he stood still, and began
to abuse his tormentors with all the energy at his
command. A crowd of those not on duty was
gathering, and Sam Turner soon found himself the
centre of a circle of human beings two or three
deep.
A MOCK TRIAL
163
Presently the Virginian ro«c, and with a stately
gesture commanded silence.
' Now let the accuser speak,' he exclaimed
This permission was translated to Red-Star, who
immediately began a long and earnest harangue.
'What does the old fellow say?' asked the
Virginian.
'He says, most honourable .xlon 1, tli.it he hopes
your eyes will be clear t'- s. ■, ,in;l v ,ur is to hear,
and that your heart i>ill U ^j.xij at:,] honest to
judge.'
' Mighty considerate of tlic oid ch.-p,' ir,uttcred the
judge, with an impas.sivc ^'la-ity tint sent the audience
into shouts of laughter.
Red-Star looked from cm fuc to another with
an air of oflTended dignity, but the interpreter
continued :
' He further says that Sam Turner has done him
a grievous wrong— hold on to him, you fellows. I
can't stop to give you all the poetry ; but the plain
English is this, as far as I can make out ; that Red-
Star here told a lie or two to oblige him about
some girl ("Sweet Violets "he calls her, I think), and
now our friend Turner refuses to pay the price he
promised.'
'It's a lie!' shouted Turner. 'Besides, Red-Star
didn't say all that I heard what he said.'
' I think I have given the full sense, if not the exact
letter, of his remark.s,' said the interpreter modestly.
'Hush! King Red-Star does not seem to have
finished his parable."
The Indian this time addressed himself to Sam,
ui^ing him to give him the gun and the tobacco he
had promised.
164 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' I never promised you anything, you old fool I ' said
Turner, almost beside himself with rage, and still
struggling to escape from the firm grasp with which
his companions held him.
'What do they say? Translate,' commanded the
Virginian.
'Red-Star says Turner promised him a gun
and six pounds of tobacco, and Turner says he
didn't.'
' Ask Red-Star what these things were to be given
for.'
Red-Star gave a lengthy explanation, during
which Turr^er absolutely stamped his feet with
rage.
Dick, who had only joined the ring a few moments
before, edged his way close to the interpreter.
' Be quick, sir— what does he say?' he asked.
'King Red-Star says that Turner wanted to
get one of the white captives for his own— he
doesn't know why— so he asked him to make up
a story that he got her at such a time and such a
place.'
' I knew it ! ' cried Dick. ' Oh, sir, ask him where
he really did get her ? '
'Young man, be silent. Don't interrupt the pro-
ceedings of the court,' said the Virginian.
'He's telling you lies I ' exclaimed Turner. ' The
gel's my own daughter, ungrateful little wretch that
she is ! '
' Where is the girl ? ' was the judge's next question.
Dick listened breathlessly for the answer, but it
was only :
• No one knows. She was brought into the English
camp once, and has not been seen since.'
A MOCK TRIAL
«6$
I Ask King Red-Star whether he can prove that
nes telling the truth now?'
At this point the other Indian took up the story
He made a long speech, but once more the translator
condensed greatly.
'He says that the girl was brought from one
of the Virgmian settlements with her father, and
that he died just after they reached Red-Star's
town.
•Do you hear that, Dick?' whispered Archer,
bne cant be your Molly after all.'
'Perhaps they are lying now,' said Dick. 'Oh
what a thing it is not to be able to believe a word
they say!'
'Why don't you ask them about the other child
bun-m-the-Hair ? ' said Archer. ' Perhaps after all she
IS the girl, whom Mr. Jewett saw.'
'I don't believe it,' said Dick obstinately, 'but I'll
He had no chance to ask then, for the men were
tired of their sport, and, to the disappointment of the
Indians, let their victim escape.
'I thought.' said Red-Star, 'that you would have
made him give me the gun and the tobacco.'
' Nay,' said the Virginian, • I could not order that
you should be rewarded for lying.'
'Well,' said the Indian, after a pause of thoughtful
consideration, 'at least I have punished him' That
seemed to comfort him. and. as he turned and saw
bam Turner scowling at and threatening the men
who had held him. his grim face relaxed into a
smile.
'Dick.' said Archer. 'if I were you I would invite
those fellows into your tent and learn from them
i66 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
what you can concerning both girls. I'll be inter-
preter this time, and we will get the solemn
Virginian yonder to act as scribe and take down all
they say.'
' Perhaps I ought to do it,' said Dick ; ' but I promise
you that it will take more than the words of those
fellows to make me believe that Sun-in-the-Hair is
Molly.'
Archer was master of the ceremonies. He offered
the two Indians tobacco before he suggested business,
and they smoked out their pipes in silence.
'Dick,' said Archer, 'you had better give them a
little present of some kind, to loosen their tongues, as
they would say.'
' Give them whatever you like, only be quick.'
'We want to know all you can tell us about
Violet-Eyes and Sun-in-the-Hair,' said Archer. ' One,
we think, is the daughter of a great chief across the
" Big Water," but we don't know which. But first, is
it t'ue that the little girl you carried off nine years
ago from the house at the head of Bear Creek is
dead ? '
For an instant the Indians consulted together in
low voices. Then Poison-Arrow said :
'Brothers, I will tell you all. Your tobacco has
washed the lies out of my mouth, and my heart is
open to you. We have told you what is not true.
The little girl from the house at the head of Bear
Creek is not dead. She is in the camp to-night wi 1.
the other white women, and we call her Sun-in-the-
Hair.'
•I don't believe it,' said Dick once more. 'Ask
him again about Violet, Joe.'
' Red-Star spoke truly to-night,' said Poison- Arrow.
A MOCK TRIAL
167
'Violet-Eyes" father has been in the land of souls for
many, many moons. But we saw that the white
man's heart was set on her, and he promised us
guns and bullets and tobacco if our tongues lied to
please him.'
'Well, write it all down,' said Dick in a tone
of resignation—' only, when they are such liars by
their own showing, it is hard to see what use it
will be.'
The talk lasted for another hour, but the old Indians
told them nothing further of importance.
'What are you going to do now, Dick?' asked
Joseph, as soon as they had gone.
Dick hesitated. He was unwilling to admit that
there was even a possibility of truth in the
Indians' story, but he was honestly anxious to do
right.
' If I can find Violet, I will take both girls home,'
he said at last— 'that is, if any one really believes this
tale— and I shall leave it to Mr. and Mrs. Marling to
decide between them.'
' But what will be done with the other — the one,
I mean, whom they decide against ? '
'I don't know,' said Dick, 'but I am very sure
they will use her kindly and tenderly. There
is one comfort— I don't think Sam Turner will
dare to trouble Violet again after the scene of
to-night.'
'Of that I am not so sure,' said Joe. ' He is a
mighty ugly-looking fellow when he is angry.'
' What puzzles me is, why did he choose to interfere
with Violet ? ' said Dick.
' I don't know. He probably had some evil scheme
in his head.'
li
I
i68 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' I wonder if it was just to thwart and anger me?'
said Diclc.
•Well, never mind him,' answered Joe. 'You
will soon be free of his company for good and all.
We are to break up camp here in three days'
time.'
CHAPTER XXI
MAKING FRIENDS
Dick was much depressrd by what the Indians had
told him, for it seemed to him that there was a
conspiracy to cheat Violet of her rights. About
noon, on the following day, however, he went to
look if he could find Sun-in-the-Hair. To his
disgust, he saw her talking to Hunter Jim, so he
did not attempt to speak to her then. But he was
determined to try to make friends with her; for if
there was any possibility of her provinf; to be
Molly, he ought to look after her for Mrs. Marling's
sake, if not for her own.
A few hour.'! later he again sought th*- ;.;iild, in
company with Mrs. Archer, who had promised to
act as interpreter for him.
The girl was sitting by herself on the long slender
branch of a fallen tree, which swayed up and down at
her slightest motion She was singing the old sweet
song with which Dick had such a disagreeable
association , and though he tried to forget that day,
he wa« conscious that, in spite of himself his face
had not a very plea,sant expression.
When Sun-in-the-Hair saw him, she laughed long
and loudly, and Dirk blushed.
169
170 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
But he had come to make friends, and it should not
be his fault if he failed.
From his pocket he produced a gay handkerchief
of scarlet silk. This he spread carefully on the
ground, and on it he arranged a little store of sweet-
meats.
' Now, Mrs. Archer, please tell her that these things
are for her, and that I wish to be friends,' said Dick,
retiring a few paces from his peace-offering, and
looking earnestly at the girl.
She answered Mrs. Archer volubly, tossing her
arms about and stamping her feet; then she took
up the sweets one by one, and threw them with an
unerring aim directly at the giver.
'She is angry,' explained his coadjutor rather
unnecessarily. ' I think you had better go away.'
Dick accordingly departed ; but he had the con-
solation of seeing that his gift was better appreciated
than had appeared, for Sun-in-the-Hair, regardless of
her dignity, carefully gathered up her missiles and
ate them. I.ike Violet, she seemed unable to resist
sweets.
This emboldened him to try again. About the
same time on the following day he went once more
to her favourite tree, and found her swinging .ind
singing as usual. This time he took no interpreter,
nor did he spread his offerings at the lady's feet.
As soon as she saw him sb - began to talk very fast
and, as Dick supposed, very rudely ; but as he did
not understand one word, he bore her abuse calmly.
Presently he held up one of his sweets, and threw it
towards her. Sun-in-the-Haii caught it dexterously,
but, to his surprise, threw it back. He tried again,
and the second time the girl put it in her mouth, and
MAKING FRIENDS
171
held out her hand for another. This was encouraginfj ;
but Dick, profiting by Colonel Bouquet's example,
resolved not to be too conciliatory, so, though Sun-
in-the-Hair evidently expected to receive more, he
shook his head and walked slowly away.
Early the next day the troops set out on their
return towards Fort Pitt. There was great lamenta-
tion amongst the Indians when they were obliged to
bid farewell to their captives, and some obtained
permission to march with the army towards the
fort whither it was bound.
Dick was dismayed to see Sun-in-the-Hair with
her arms round the neck of a particularly dirty old
squaw. Both were sobbing and crying as if their
hearts would break, and every now and then the
child uttered a wild, piercing shriek. What would
Mrs. Marling think if he had to take her to England ?
But when she looked up, with her blue eyes filled
with tears, and her poor little face distorted with
grief, a sudden wave of pity swept over him. After
all, little savage as she seemed, she had a heart, and
for the second time since he made acquaintance with
her Dick looked at her without repulsion. He would
gladly have comforted her, had he known how ; but
he was still gazing helplessly at her when he heard
the bugle-call, which obliged him to take his place
in the ranks.
All morning the thought of the woebegone little
figure in its thin blanket haunted him, and, for once
forgetting Violet, he tried to think of some plan by
which to win the child's confidence, for it was clear
to him that he could do her little good while she
distrusted him. He might have added, while he
hated and despised her; but he did not yet realise
i7» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
the hopelessness of trying to serve a fellow-creature
in any spirit but that of love.
The wind was piercing, as it swept through the
bare woods, and rustled the dried leaves under their
feet Dick wished that his coat was thicker, and felt
conscience-stricken to think of Sun-in-the-Hair in her
tattered blanket. If he was cold, what must not she
be suffering <
When t!ic>' stopped for the night, he went to one
of his com.Mdes, as soon as his nixcssary duties were
done, and bought a large striped blanket. Armed
with this, and with a tin cup of steaming broth, he
once more sought Sun-in-the-Hair.
To his dismay, she was huddled up in a heap on
the damp ground, still crying bitterly. Her thin, bare
arms were blue with cold, and the wind fluttered her
miserable rags remorselessly. Again Dick wondered
what Mrs. Marling would think, if she could sec her ;
and the memory of his dear mistress made his voice
very gentle, as he pronounced the child's long Indian
name, which he had learnt with so much difficulty.
Sun-in-the-Hair obstinately refused to move for
several seconds ; but just as the lad was beginning
to despair of doing anything with her, she lifted up
her head and shook her tangled hair out of her eyes
'Drink this,' commanded Dick in English. ' I-^
will do you good.'
The girl understood his gesture, if not his words,
and, after a little hesitation, accepted the bread and
broth he had brought her. When the cup was empty,
she flung herself down on the brown turf again ; but
Dick lifted her up, and, wrapping the blanket round
her shivering little body, led her to the camp fire,
where Mrs. Freeland and Mrs. Archer were sitting.
MAKING FRIENDS
«73
' I wish, ma'am,' he said to the latter, ' that you
could buy her some more comfortable clothing than
that she has on. I scarcely know what is fitting for
her, but I have money to pay for all that is needed.'
' I will gladly do my best for her, but I doubt if
she'll wear better clothes if she has them,' said Mrs.
Archer.
Dick still lingered, for he had another request to
make.
' If you could persuade her, ma'am, to wash her
face, it would mightily improve her appearance,' he
added.
' Yes, sir, and to comb out her hair — it's beautiful,
if it were only properly dressed ; but it will be no
easy matter to induce her to do either. She is a
regular little Indian, poor child I'
The subject of these remarks was still standing
beside Dick, and to his astonishment he discovered
that she was feeling in his pockets. He grasped her
wrist, and drew her hand out of the pocket with a
touch of roughness, in spite of his new resolutions.
' What can she want ? ' he exclaimed.
' Sweets, I think,' said Mrs. Archer.
' Tell her I have none now, ma'am.' Then he added,
with a sudden inspiration, 'But I'll get her some gladly,
if she'll come to me clean and tidy to-morrow.'
Sun-in-the-Hair made an ugly grimace on hearing
this hard condition, and, to Dick's disappointment,
appeared before him in the morning with her face
unwashed, and her hair as tangled as ever. She held
out her hand with a smile, but the lad frowned.
She stamped her foot, and talked faster than he had
ever heard her before. It was very clear she was in a
great passion, but he still stood gravely shaking his
174 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
head. Still she pretended not to understand, and Dick,
in desperation, began a dumb-show of washing his
own face, and combing his own hair. She chattered
at him like an angry monkey; then, with two or three
shrill screams, ran oiT into the woods. But she did
not run far ; for happening to catch sight of some
short thick sticks, she filled her arms, and, going back
to her would-be benefactor, she flung them at him
one by one.
He tried in vain to dodge her missiles ; and though
he was not seriously hurt, he received one blow heavy
enough to raise a large swelling on his forehead.
Some of his comrades witnessed his discomfiture, and
met him, when he returned to his duties, with shouts
of laughter.
At night the same scene was repeated with slight
variations ; but Dick, being on his guard, contrived
to avoid her blows.
Next day he had his reward, however. He was
busy getting ready for the march, when Sun-in-the-
Hair appeared before him, dressed in a long-sleeved
gown of dark blue. Her face at least showed its
natural fairness, and her long hair was combed back
over her shoulders and tied with a ribbon.
He smiled this time with genuine pleasure, and
filled her hands with sugar and raisins. She stood
beside him for a few moments, enjoying the coveted
sweetmeats, tiien, to hh great surprise, held out her
hand.
Dick was so much astonished that for a moment
he did not take it ; then, mindful still of his new
duties as general educator and instructor, he bowed
as respectfully as if his little white savage had been a
great lady. He did not at all like it, though ; for he
MAKING FRIENDS 175
felt, as he had never done before, that it was possible
after all that this child, and not Violet, was the girl he
had come to seek. Why it should be more likely,
because she had at last deigned to wash her face and
dress her hair, he did not stop to think. Probably his
alarm on Violet's account was due to the fact that
Sun-in-the-Hair no longer looked so utterly unworthy
of being Mrs. Marling's grandchild.
' Bravo, lad,' said a voice beside him ; ' art thou
turning dancing-master ? '
It was the colonel of his regiment, and Dick
blushed as he answered :
'No, sir, I should make no figure at that trade;
but this child may prove to be a wealthy lady, and
I would gladly see her rast away her savage ways.'
' Whether wealthy or not, she will be a beauty, lad.
So she's that Molly Marling of whom we have heard
so much ? '
' Oh, sir, I hope not ! ' cried Dick.
' Ah, I remember you favour another fair claimant.
Where is she, lad ? '
' I don't know. I wish I could get tidirgs of her.'
'But, like a prudent fellow, you do rot mean to
go home without one Molly or the other, eh?'
Colonel Francis did not wait for an answer, but
passed on, laughing heartily, and Dick thought once
again that, though some care for Sun-in-the-Hair
might be a duty, it was by no means a pleasure.
But the girl herself felt that, to use the favourite
metaphor of the Indian orators, the chain of peace
had been brightened, and that she and Dick now held
it fast between them.
The next time she came to ask for sweets she
brought a handful of scarlet berries, which she
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176 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
presented to Dick with a bright smile and a long
speech in her unintelhgible language. Then she
added, in broken English, • Eat, Dick-good ! '
And Dick ate, like a brave man, privately hoping
that the pretty -looking fruit was not actually
poisonous. He had no wish to reject Sun-in-the-
Hairs first voluntary step towards friendship; but
he afterwards regretted his complacency, for during
the next two days she frequently brought him
strange edibles from the woods, which she evidently
r^arded as delicacies.
CHAPTER XXII
ON THE TRACK OF THE AHMY
SL!.=^ ^^T "^^-"^ *''°"eh the wilderness many of
he rescued capt.ves took the opportunity of escaping
to the woods, ,n the hope of making their way
back to the wild life they had learnt to prefer to
the greater luxuries and more irksome restraints
of c,v,jsat,on. Some, indeed, had married amongst
the Indians and had been forced against their wil
to leave their best beloved behind, and to return to
JmpX' ''' "'* ^''°'" "^^y had lost all
Dick would not have been at all surprised any
mornmg to hear that Sun-in-the-Hair was not to
be found, but they had almost reached Fort Pitt
before it was reported that she was missing. I
was then discovered that she had not been seen for
for her m the woods. This time his request was
bTk^oCk for he"' ™* °^ ""' ---'- '--'
Archer strongly advised him not to go himself, but
he had learnt so much woodcraft in the last few
tTsf M tt: '? '^"'■'^ Tr^'"' *° ""•^-'^'^^ ^^^
task. AH the afternoon he had no success
By this time it was getting dusk, and, having
12
178 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
found the path the army had taken, he was pushing
forward as fast as possible, when he saw some
one in a fluttering blanltet just in front of him. He
quiclcened his pace to a run, calling, ' Sun-in-the-
Hair, stop ! '
The girl glanced over her shoulder, and then dis-
appeared into a clump of bushes. Perhaps, after all.
It was not Sun-in-the-Hair, but some poor wretch
who had left an Indian husband in one of the
Delaware towns. And if it should be the child, why
should he force her to go with him if she did not
wish? Had she really been Molly indeed, the case
would have been different; but the girl whom he
thought of as Molly was no one knew where—
perhaps lying dead in some strange hiding-place,
whither she had fled to escape Sam Turner's ground-
less claims. Like many other people, Dick often
only believed as much as he chose, and he was quite
satisfied there never had been such a person as Sukey
Turner.
Far in the distance he could see the warm
glow from the camp fires; but he was footsore,
weary, and weighed down with the heavy re-
sponsibilities of his duty towards the Mayings,
and he walked slowly.
Suddenly a little glad cry rang from a clump of
bushes on the right side of the path ; then a low voice
said softly :
•Dick, is that you?'
'Yes. Oh, Violet!
from ? '
' Hush ! speak quietly,
was that man Turner.
where did you spring
I was so afraid that it
I am always fancying
that he is following me, so when I hear any one
ON THE TRACK OF THE ARMY
»79
I am afraid for you, Dick. Do be
coming I hide,
careful.'
'I shall not be near him much longer. Violet ; but.
tell me, where have you been all these days ? '
Violet laughed.
The wty" ''' "" ' ''"' ^'"^ ^°"°"'"g y°- -"
'Well, you can come back into camp now. Do
you know that Red-Star confessed that he was telling
lieyo please Turner when he said you were hil
-No/said Violet, frowning; 'but I won't come
back, Dick, until Colonel Bouquet says I may go
with you. I won't be Turner's Sukey, even for a
minute.
' What do you mean to do. then ? '
•I'll follow the army, as I have been doing these
other day& "
' But what do you (ind to ; ? '
'Oh, lots of things,' said Violet; and Dick
wondered if she liked the same queer things as
Sun-in-the-Hair.
• Where do you sleep? ' demanded Dick
• In all sorts of places,' said Violet 'I'm used to
the woods, you know.'
' But don't you find it very cold ? '
' I'm used to the cold.' she answered as before • I
soon get warm when the sun comes out.'
u 'f"?. yp" J"""* *at it wouldn't do to come
back ? said Dick, looking anxiously into the gloomy
recesses of the forest. ' How can you tear it
Violet ? ' ►.
' I can bear anything rather than go back to Sam
i8o THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Turner,' said Violet ' But, Dick, if I follow you all
the way, you will take me to England, won't you?
You are sure I am Molly, aren't you ? '
' Pretty nearly,' said Dick ; • but I'll take x'ou to
England, anyway.'
'Why aren't you quite sure?'
• Because Poison-Arrow and Red-Star say Sun-in-
the-Hair is Molly.'
• Then shan't I be a grand English lady ? ' asked
Violet in a tone of bitter disappointment. ' I do so
want to be Molly.'
' Well, I hope you are,' said Dick. ' I really think
you are. But, I must go. I wish you would come
too.'
' I can't, Dick.'
' Well, I'm afraid I must go,' repeated Dick, ' or
they will think again that I have run away; but,
Violet, I shall always try to put something for you
near where the big fires have been, so that you won't
need to be hungry.'
• Come,' said Violet, taking his hand. ' I am going
with you till we get close to the camp. Why did you
come out all alone? I have tried to speak to you
many times, but you would never listen or come
near me.'
' I didn't know you were there, Violet.'
' Where did you think I had gone, when you couldn't
find me ? '
• I thought perhaps you had gone back to Red-
Star.'
Violet indignantly shook her head. 'I am never
going to be an Indian any more, Dick. I told you
so. I have been near the camp all the time. Did
you try to find me ? '
ON THE TRACK OF THE ARMY i8i
' They wouldn't let me, though I begged hard.'
' Weren't you looking for some one to-day ? '
' Yes, Sun-in-the-Hair ran away this morning.'
'And did they say that you might look for
her?"
'Yes. They are not quite so strict now peace
is made, and they have made up their minds that
she is Molly Marling, so you see they think in a
way she belongs to me.'
Violet did not answer for a long time. Then she
said :
' I don't like Sun-in-the-Hair ; she is a wild girl.
She should go back to the Indians.'
' Nay, Violet, she is white too, and I hope she has
not gone back to the savages again.'
Violet hung her head, and looked as if she were
ashamed of herself.
• I saw her to-day, and told her to go back to Red-
Star's town,' she said. ' But if I see her again, I'll
tell her you want her — shall I ? '
•Yes, do,' said Dick. ' I must make haste back to
the camp ; but, Violet, if you want to speak to me
again any time, whistle when you see me pass, and I
will seek you as soon afterwards as I can '
' Very well. Good-night now.'
' Are you not afraid of being alone in the dark
forest ? '
Violet shook her head and ran off laughing, while
Dick went slowly into the circle lighted by the great
camp fires. The next moment Sun-in-the-Hair came
dancing up to him with a very friendly and innocent
air.
' Where have you been all day ? ' asked Dick.
'In the woods,' answered the girl, who was be-
•8» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
ginna,g topick up a fe,v simple English phrases.
'Do you know I have been looking for you for
Why?'
■Because I didn't wantjyou to get lost.'
1 he girl laughed merrily.
lil^lT"'f':'^^" "°* ^^' lost-Dick get lost-
Ked-Star find him.' ^
Foyt"p°t7 ' Th' 1>^f ''"*'' "'■■^ "'^^''="'"^'= they reached
i*ort I'ltt. The httle army ^vas now broken up The
regular soldiers were sent to garrison diirZt p2
escu J' ""'' "''"'= '^' P^°-"^''^l troops, with the
CHAPTER XXIII
TWO • WHITE LADIES'
At Fort Pitt Mrs. Frceland was met by her husband,
and Dick arranged with them to take charge of
Violet. They intended to visit Philadelphia on their
way to one of the little towns in that neighbourhood,
where they meant to make their home. Dick had
a good deal of diflficulty, however, in finding the girl
to fell her of his plans for her, and still more in
persuadmg her to go forward without him.
They all made the journey without any mis-
adventures by the way, and before the close of
November Joseph Archer and his long-lost wife
were safe beneath his mother's roof.
'It Jseems too good to be true, Joe.' she sobbed.
I never, never hoped to see poor Bessy again. But
oh, lad, how could you know her? She is woefully
changed.'
'I didn't know her,' said Archer bitterly. 'She
knew me.'
There was a long pause ; then Joe spoke aTain.
' Mother,' he said, ' I thank God for scnding°that lad
here, and for touching my hard heart to desire to
help him. If it hadn't been for that, Bessy would
have had no one to welcome her back. But I am
JS3
'84 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
forgetting-DJck Ugged me to ask you if he m.Vht
bring h.s two Molly Marlings h.re for a while Can
we make room for all ? ' ^*"
thll^Z^^r !"='■'= "°"''' «''d Mrs. Archer. <The girl
the'^oth °''' ''" '''"=" ^'"^ »''"<= two days, and
«^e other came an hour ago. Did you rot hear?
ZT^ ^' r" '"^''«= ^°«'"' It doTs m go'! o
Z'^r'J^r"^' '''"''"^ f^°'" that awf.l fate. It
seems dreadful to think of two such pretty itt'
ma,ds being brought up like savages. "hZ they
must have suffered!' now tney
havl tf '^"°"'' "'°"'"'- 't's not the children that
^nt T\ltr:u ■ ^'^^ 1:""= "''="=»'«^ ; they didn"
squaws.- '"°"''='''' ^' ^h^y ""«=d the
'Then they are kind to them?"
wh'il? Ki *''7r^'^' ^t^" °"'" they have washed the
white blood from their veins, as they say. Oh at
his mmute, there's many a sad heart in the Indian
towns, mourning for their white brothers or daughters
lost to them for ever.' ""fcHK-rs
Just then Dick knocked at the door, saying-
.^^I want Joseph's advice, ma'am. May I come
'. Z^^' ^"^* ' ^° ^"^^y ' ' said Mrs. Archer
how L'"?r'«P!f^^ ''"y- ^y ''•■'^'^"'ty i« this:
how am I to find out which of the two girls is
Molly? Either of them answers to Mr. /ewett'
descrip ,on. I would take them down to h m
but I fear we might be molested by Turner and
blttlr th"- uf'f"''' ^'"■"'^ ''"'y "-'' --thing
streets.' ""^''^ *° ^""^ '^' P"^"^
'You are right, my lad,' said Mr.. Archer. 'If
TWO 'WHITE LADIES' ,85
vou could keep them indoors even for a few days
.e could clothe them so that they would not make
quite such sorr futures on the streets.'
'Madam, would it be trespassing too much on your
kmdness to beg you to buy for them such garments
as they need ? Were I to do iv. I fea^ there is danger
that they would look little less odd than they do
now.' '
'I will do my best, sir. Should you like them to
b: dressed alike ? '
'Why. yes,' said Dick; 'at least, til! we are
certam which one is Miss Marling, 'tis well to give
neither advantage over the other. If I may prt-
sume so far, I would have them dressed neatly but
plainly.' '
The request was not without reason, for the fashions
of that time were rather extravagant.
Two days later Mrs. Archer proudly led the two
girls into the kitchen, where Dick was talking to
her son.
' See, good sirs,' she said ; ' don't thc<;c two little
misses look neat and pretty?'
Dick looked from one to the other gravely. His
wish for plainness and neatness had received due
attention ; and nothing could have been simpler than
their blue dresses, white aprons, and spotless collars
and cuffs. Ex.:ept for the colour of the gowns
Mrs. Archer ...igl t have taken as a model the Quaker
costume, which was so familiar to all eyes in that
time and place.
Violet held up her head proudly, conscious that
her appearance was now worthy of a ' white lady ' •
but poor little Sunny-Hair, as they had begun to
call her, looked unhappy and restless in her new
186 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MAFLING
attire. She twitched her sleeves, plucked at her
apron, and stood first on one foot and then on the
other as if her new shoes burnt her.
'Well, sir. what do you think ?'" repeated Mrs.
time?"* '^^"^ "^^ ""' '*°"'' """"^"^ '" t*"!
-Indeed you have. I am most greatly obliged
to you. ma'am.' *"
' Do I look like a white lady now ? ' demanded
Violet.
* Indeed you do. Violet. No one would know that
you had ever been anything else.'
'I wasn't anything else, sir,' said the young
girl, with an air of offended dignity. ' I always
knew I was not an Indian, even before Mrs.
i-reeland came to the camp and taught me to
speak English.'
'Hovv do you like your new dress, Sunny-Hair ? '
asked Dick.
'Sunny-Hair doesn't like it,' said Violet in a tone
of superiority. 'She says a blanket is more com-
fortable.
'I don't like it-it hurts,' said that young person,
wrestling frantically with her stiff collar.
_ 'What's the matter, little one?' said Archer sooth-
ingly. 'Let me see. Have they fastened it too
tight ? '
' Yes. they have. It hurts.' And Sun-in-the-Hair
w;,s on the verge of flying i„to a passion, when
Archer created a diversion by suggesting that they
should go to see the horses in the streets and the
big canoes' on the river.
' Couldn't we go to Mr. Jewett's to-day ? ' said Dick
anxiously.
TWO 'WHITE LADIES'
187
• I suppose we might,' said Archer. ' Mother, have
you provided any outdoor apparel for these two little
maids ? '
• Yes. Come, girls, get your hoods and cloaks.'
Archer led the way to Mr. Jcwett's house, holding
Sun-Jn-the-Hair fast by he hand ; for he suspected
her, with some reason, of a desire to escape from the
restraints of civilisation, which at present seemed to
her only uselc?T and uncomfortable. As they walked
along the strc.d she gazed at the people and the
houses with an air of wild astonishment ; but Violet
waj determined not to show surprise at anything.
She marched by Dick's side with an impassive aTr
that would have done ere "t to an Indian warrior ;
and she and her escort attercd themselves that
her new manners accorded excellently with her new
dress.
To Liick's great disappointment, the found that
Mr. Jewett was unable to sec them, ie was at
home, but had been ill for many days, and was
now so weak that he could scarcely speak above a
whisper.
'What shall I do?' said Dick, when they reached
home. 'I had counted on Mr. Jcwett's knowing
which was which of the two girls ; and I received a
letter to-day bidding me come home with all possible
speed.'
Archer was silent for a few moments. At last he
said :
' Surely there must be others in the town who have
known Molly Marlins's parents?'
'How am I to find them?' said Dick. 'To say
truth, I am much afraid of Sun-in-the-Hair's giving
me the slip if I take her round the town.'
'" THE SEARCH FOR MOLLV MARLING
'If you'll give me their names/ said Dick ' I'll an
»nl^''^' ^''''' '^■'^ ^''- Archer hospitably 'and if
col '^ """'.^ information to offer^ or Think they
mXht SV'"*^ °^ *^^ *--" - Miss Marling, you
;But suppose many remembered Mrs. Marling?'
You may mv.te them all-twenty if you like 'Tis
a most .mportant matter, and I would do anythS
rihts- *° P"' '""^ ^' ^^^^ '" possession ofTe'r
nrZ'^ T! ™"''' '"'P"'^'^ *° find how many people
oeciared that they also remembered her husband
He soon grew weary of explaining his strange errand'
and went home with much less faith in the fuccess of
the experiment than he had set out with He fdt
reed trof Mo,/'^ ^^"^ °^ '""^ ^-riptions": had'
tharher oIH ^•^'."'u*''"'' ""^ ''^ ^'^'^^r wished
"r:«nte;-?.ttt£ui"---^-
^oa^SL^tsrScf^----^
TWO 'WHITE LADIES'
189
an old lady, almost blind, but she laid great stress
on her fine ear for voices. She was led into the
rooni by her grand-daughter, a girl of fourteen.
Next came three sisters, who had attended the
writing school at the same time as Mrs. Marling.
Then came the minister who had baptised her.
Altogether, the party numbered nearer thirty than
twenty but Mrs. Archer was in her element. She
sailed downstairs in her best cap and gown, and
marshalled the company in a great circle all round
the room.
She had wished her daughter-in-law to do this ■
but poor Bessy shrank from meeting so many
strangers, and busied herself in preparing for the
refreshment of the guests after the ceremony of the
day should be over.
The solemnity of the occasion seemed to be
oppressive. The guests sat as silent as if they were
m a meetmg-house ; and though Mrs. Archer made
remarks on the weather and the condition of the
streets, she did not encourage conversation of a more
absorbingly interesting nature. In the very middle
of the room Joseph Archer was established at a
small table, upon which were set forth a great
ink-horn, a quill pen, and a large sheet of paper.
Possibly these preparations for preserving their
utterances impressed the guests with the fact that
words are weighty and should not be used without
due consideration.
The room was full, even to overflowing. The
silence and solemnity were becoming almost un-
bearable. Joseph was wondering why his mother
did not bring down the girls and get the tedious
business over. Some of the guests were apparently
I90 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
under the impression that they were at a funeral
and were beginning to feel for their handkerchiefs'
Suddenly the spell was broken.
A frightful shriek from the room overhead broke
in on the stillness with dramatic effect. There was
a sound of dancing and stamping; then a general
cramble ; but the company in the parlour was S
silent and motionless, for there was something we rd
and unearthly about the whole entertainment.
Before they had time to recover themselves, there
was a succession of screams, then Sun-in-th^Hair
dashed into the room with her long locks flying
loose and a patchwork quilt, of marvellous desin
clutched round her shoulders. She danced up to
Joseph, sweeping the ink-horn from the table in
her course, and, stamping her little bare foot
began^ to tell h.m some long tale in her famSr
.JnV^\^°u^^"y """''"•■ "P"'''' "°^ moved; and
even Mrs. Archer was too paralysed to do anyAing
for the preservation of her best mat, on which the
ink had been poured out in one huge blot
At that moment, while every man and woman
m the room was gazmg open-eyed on the madly
dancing ,tt le figure in its queer garb of patchwork^
Violet slowly entered and took her place on the
other side of Joseph. Her hair was dressed in
careful plaits and coils, and her blue gown and
white collar set off her fair complexion to the
best advantage.
She was followed by Dick, who, according to the
ongina programrne, arranged by Mrs. Archer, took
his station behind Joseph. If all had gone well he
was to have made a little speech, repeating the main
TWO 'WHITE LADIES' igi
facts of Molly Marling's story, and asking the
opinion of the company as to which of the two
young ladies appeared most likely to be the lost
heiress. But, I am grieved to say, he too lost his
presence of mind, and gazed helplessly at Sun-in-the-
Hair, whose rage seemed but to increase with the
relation of her woes.
' Mother,' said Joseph at last, ' we had best have
supper first. 'Tis useless to attempt other business
now.'
* Really, that is a very naughty child,' said Mrs.
Archer, feeling more indignant than she could
express at the upsetting of her nicely arranged
plans.
' Leave her to me, mother. I'll pacify her.'
And while the company went to supper, the host
carried Sun-in-the-Hair upstairs. A few minutes
later he called his wife, and between them they
coaxed and scolded the girl back to good humour.
They even persuaded her to give up the patched
quilt, which she had snatched from her bed, as a
substitute for her beloved blanket ; and when next
she appeared downstairs, she was dressed, like Violet,
in a blue gown and a white apron. But she flatly
refused to put on a collar ; and it appeared that it
was Violet's attempts to dress her properly, according
to Mrs. Archer's instructions, that had caused the
whole uproar.
Meanwhile, the guests had found their tongues.
Every one seemed to be talking and no one listening
except Dick, who heard a good deal that did not
please him. Forgetful that Violet could hear and
understand, deaf old gentlemen shouted criticisms
of her appearance to equally deaf old ladies ; but
X9» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
what annoyed Dick most of all was a remark he
heard about Sun-in-the-Hair. *
• She's the image of her mother,' he heard. ' When
he was a mere slip of a girl, she would go intrfus"
such rages, dancing and stamping like a mad thiig
but she grew out of it, ma'am-she grew out of f '■
and when Robert Marling married her she w/s Is
sweet a girl as you could wish to see '
'I don't believe in children growing out o' H„.,v
sins, sir,' was the answer. ' I believe in f- • .
out o' them. If I-d my way ly keln '"jf'"'"?, ^"^
bread and water for a while ' ^ '^^' ^""^ °"
'Poor littlfe maid! she has had no chance m,„>
just a little white Indian.' ° "» chance. Shes
'Yes, and I'd take the Indian out of*hpr nr u
the reason why.' was the harsh r^der ' '"°"
At that moment Joseph Archer led Sun-in-the-Hair
in o the room and the old gentleman said "
out ofherl^a'am'^^t ""'''''' '^'^" *^ ^"d-
• J 7 ' "'^*"'- She seems now in her ricrhf
mmd, and a mighty pretty little maid she is' ^
More hke her poor dear mother than ever I '
Dick heard no more then; but after supper v hen
the guests were once more ranged round^h. .
parlour, there was a great dezl of f:^^ u^l ""^
not satisfactory from hSplfof ^J ' ""
th. LSr "^u'^^'l '^'^"^'' J°^ '""^ed his seat at
the table, while the girls took fhf.;, „i,
wmch of these too g.,1, „„., nearly resemble.
TWO 'WHITE LADIES' ,53
Mr or Mrs. Marling, who left this city about ten
The gentleman addressed answered unhesitatingly
The httle maid, ma'am ' ; but to Dick's relief both the
^cond and third judges decided in favour of Violet
Several cautious individuals made lengthy speeches
without venturing to commit themselves. Others
declared that the case was so plain that there could
be no doubt which was Molly Marling; but these
positive people contradicted one another, and argued
so earnestly for their respective candidates, that they
seriously interfered with the carrying out of the
programme.
Joseph carefully noted down the opinion of each
member .f the company, and Dick looked over his
shoulder as he wrote. He was so excited that he
could hardly force himself to listen in silence to the
long, droning speeches. Violet was almost equally
nervous ; but Sun-in-the-Hair, when she grew tired
oJ standing, dropped in a heap on the floor, and went
peacefully to sleep, quite undisturbed by the attention
tftat was being bestowed upon her.
At last it was over, but Dick could not wait for
the guests to depart before he asked :
' What is it, Joseph ? What do they think ? '
J w"'' If ^f *° ^'"^ ^"y °P'"'°n' seven think that
Violet IS Molly, fourteen that Sun-in-the-Hair is, and
three say that neither of them is in the least like
Mrs. Marling.
■Do you mean to say that fourteen of these
people think that Sun-in-the-Hair is Molly, and only
half as many say that Violet is? After all, Joe, I
work • "'^ ^^ *"^ "^^''^'' ""^ *"'''' ^y ^^^ ^^y'^
13
194 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
' It's hard to say,' said Joseph. ' For my own part,
I think it likely that the majority are right.'
Dick sighed.
'Well, Mr. and Mrs. Marling must decide for
themselves.'
At this moment Violet came up to them.
' Am I Molly ? ' she asked eagerly.
* I fear not,' said Archer.
' I still hope you are,' said Dick.
CHAPTER XXIV
AN ADVENTURE ON THE RIVER
For the next few days Dick had a very busy time.
One evening he went to Mrs. Archer with an
anxious face.
' Madam,' he said, ' I shall be greatly obliged if
you can persuade both girls to stay indoors, unless
they have some one to take charge of them. This
morning I saw Sam Turner hovering about the
corner of the street, and I think, when I came home
last night, some one was hiding in the yard. Indeed,
I believe he has kept a watch on us ever since we got
to Philadelphia.'
' Surely they would not dare to molest you in the
city ? ' said Mrs. Archer.
' Nay,' said Dick, ' they have dared so much with
me, and have not been brought to punishment, that
I fear they may be emboldened to try to work some
other ill. I shall be glad now to be well away
from Philadelphia, though I can never thank you
and your son enough for your great kindness
to me.'
' I am glad to have been able to do something for
the poor little souls, who have been so long uncared
for," replied Mrs. Archer. ' But, indeed, despite
Sun-in-the- Hair's wild ways, I shall miss you all
196 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
greatly. The house will not seem like the same
place without you. Hark! what is wrong now?
Surely that child must have slipped into the
street.'
Dick sprang to the door, and Sun-in-the-Hair came
running towards him, calling :
' Dick, Dick ! — bad man hurt me.'
• Where is he ? ' cried Dick.
' Gone down street.'
' I believe, ma'am,' said Dick, with an air of
desperation, 'that it must be one of those rascals
again. I shall take our passage to-morrow in the
Mohawk Queen. I saw the captain to-day, and
he told me that his wife would take charge of
the girls.'
'It is a bad time of year for a long voyage,'
remarked Mrs. Archer, ' but Captain Arnold and his
wife are good friends of ours. You could not find
any one kinder or more discreet than Mrs. Arnold to
take charge of your little maids.'
' Well, I'll certainly do it, then. The ship sails on
Monday,' said Dick. Then he turned to Sun-in-the-
Hair again. ' Why did you run out into the street
where it's all dark ? ' he asked. ' That bad man will
run away with you some day if you don't take
care.'
The girl shook her head.
' He's afraid,' she said ; ' as soon as I screamed he
ran He's not a warrior ; he's only a squaw.'
' Well, be a good girl, and do what you are told,
like Violet. You don't know what may happen if
you are naughty,' said Dick vaguely, wishing that
the time had come when he could turn over his
responsibilities to some one else. Violet was generally
AN ADVENTURE ON THE RIVER ,97
manageable, but there was no Idling from one moment
to another what S in-in-the-Hair would take it into
her head to do.
Mrs. Archer seemed to have the same idea.
'You'll be lucky,' she faid aloud, 'if you get her
over alive. She'll surely :all into the water.'
Next day Dick arranged everything to his satis-
faction, but Archer met him with a gloomy face.
' I fear you are going to have trouble yet, Dick,'
he said. 'Some meddlesome fellow has been sug-
gesting that you ought not to be {.'.lowed to carry
off those two girls until thete has been an inquiry
into the case.'
'^«)'' •>"* I've taken my passage,' said Dick.
Jruc "° '""* *°'' '"1"'"«s and such nonsense.
Why, if they are going to keep me till they find out
who the girls are, we may wait for years."
' I know all that,' said Joe ; ' but if I were you, I'd
hurry on board as soon as you can. Get your pass-
port signed before there comes an order from the
governor to stop you.'
'I will,' said Dick. • Oh, I wonder why people
will trouble their heads about what doesn't concern
them? Can Turner's finger be in it again? Some
rascal frightened Sun-in-the-Hair last night, or
at least made her shriek. I am constantly afraid
vhen I go out that I shall find her gone when I
come in.'
•Don't be down-hearted. I believe that God will
take care of you and your charges, an-' I fully
expect you'll get them both safe and sound to
London,' said Archer with unwonted cheerfulness.
What you'll do with them when you do get them
there is another question. I only hope Mrs
igS THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Marling will not think your two little Indians too
much of a burden.'
• I'm not afraid of that,' said Dick. ' My troubles
will be over when we have once crossed the sea.'
Mrs. Archer was much occupied during these days
in providing all that she thought necessary for the
travellers to take with them. The voyage at that
tim<; of year would probably la.»t for eight or nine
weeks, and might take a very much longer time.
At last everything was in readiness. The girls,
who only half understood what lay before them, were
in wild excitement when the time came to bid their
kind friends good-bye. Violet cried quietly, but
Sun-in-the-Hair lifted up her voice and screamed as
the Indian women did in times of mourning. Mrs.
Archer was much touched by this mark of feeling^
but Dick became impatient at the noise and fuss,
for he ./as feverishly anxious to be off, and could
not rid himself of an uncomfortable notion that
even yet something might prevent their sailing that
night.
The Mohawk Queen lay at anchor some distance
down the river. She was to sail at dawn ; but the
passengers, of whom there were only two besides
Dick's party, had been requested to come on board
before midnight.
It was almost the darkest season of the year ; and
though Dick had intended to go aboard in daylight,
it was dusk before they left the house.
Just as they crossed the market-place, Sun-in-the-
Hair exclaimed, ' The bad man ! Look, Dick ' ; and
she pointed to a dark archway.
' I don't see any one," said Dick. ' Never mind him
now.'
AN ADVENTURE ON THE RIVER 199
Nevertheless, the girl's remark added to his nervous-
ness and discomfort.
They were soon at the wat-srside, where they found
the boat Dick had ordered earlier in the day already
piled high with their belongings.
Its owner— a man named Garry— grumbled at
having been kept waiting in the cold so long ; but his
assistant, who had his head bundled up as if he had
toothache, did not speak till they were all seated in
the boat. Then he suddenly objected to Archer's
being of the party, saying :
' The boat has all she can carry without you, sir.'
'The boat is all right,' replied Archer. 'I am
going to see my friends aboard.'
'You'd better bid them farewell here,' was the
reply. ' I tell you it ain't safe to crowd so many into
the old boat with such a heap of luggage.'
' It's safe enough,' said Archer. ' I know what a
boat can carry, my man.'
'Let the gentleman go, Jack,' said Garry.
"TaJn't our fault if they overload the old tub.
They've had fair warning, an' I guess we knows
how to swim.'
' We hadn't ought to go, Tom ; but if the lad that
hired us says so, vhy '
Dick wondered that Archer should insist on accom-
panying them under the circumstances ; but as he
evidently did not intend to give way, the lad said
rather sharply :
'Go on, then, my men. Are we to idle here all
night ? '
'I don't want the drow , i f you on my con-
science," muttered the man \ i-. che bandaged head.
'Go on ; make haste,' repeated Dick ; and, still
«oo THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
grumbling, the oarsmen pulled slowly out Into the
stream.
'Look I another canoe!' cried Sun-ln-the-Halr,
pointing to a boat that crept slowly after them out of
the black shadow of the wharf
' 5f°«* passengers,' muttered the surly oarsman.
'The bad man I M.. Sam Turn^-i ,' said Sun-in-
the-Hair, pointing at the speaker, and separating the
syllables of the name in her quaint, foreign fashion,
while she laughed as if she thought it an excellent joke.
The man uttered an angry < xclamation. then tried
to look unconscious, while Dick started, and glanced
anxiously at Archer ; but neither spoke.
Soon, when they were well out on the misty river
both men stopped rowing, and Garry gave a loud
shout.
'Go on,' said Dick once more. 'Why are you
stopping? We have no time to lose.'
'My oar has broke short off,' explained the boat-
man; then he raised his voice again, and called
to the occupants of the boat which was still
following them, ' Hulloa there ! have you an extra
'Yes,' was the reply, and the other men began to
pull towards them with long rapid strokes.
* I don't like this,' whispered Dick, as the second
boat came alongside.
' Neither do I,' replied Archer. ' If I am not much
mistaken, that is our old friend Jim,' and he pointed
to one of the new-comers.
' It looks like a regular plot What do they want.
I wonder ? '
As if in answer to his question, Sam Turner
suddenly threw off his disguise, exclaiming:
AN ADVENTURE ON THE RIVER aoi
• Now, my lad, we're four to two, but If you give in
quietly we'll hurt none of you. I warn you, it will
be the worse for you and the lasses too, if you make
any fuss.'
' What do you want ? ' demanded Dick.
•You'll soon see. All you have to do is to obey
orders. Get into the other boat, and be quick about
it. You, too,' he added, turning to Archer, 'or I'll
pitch you into the river.'
They did not stir, and Sam, throwing himself upon
Archer, endeavoured to put his threat into execution,
while Hunter Jim attacked Dick and tried to drag
him from his place. Fortunately they feared to use
firearms lest the report should attract inconvenient
attention to their proceedings.
In the struggle both boats came perilously near
being capsized, though two of the men cave all their
attention to keeping them steady. Violet, almost
beside herself with terror, clung with be !. hands to
the seat, and shrieked again and again for help;
but Sun-in-the-Hair seized a boat-hook, and tool:
energetic part in the fray.
Archer was getting the worst of it. His enemy's
strong arms were crushing the breath out of his
body, when Sun-in-the-Hair brought down her
weapon with a crash on Turner's head. He lurched
forward, lost his balance, and fell head-first into the
water, carrying Archer with him. Sun-in-the-Hair
uttered a wild cry, and began to tear off some of
her heavy clothing with the intention of going to
the rescue; but Dick, still struggling with Hunter
Jim, did not even know what had happened.
A second later, however, Jim's choking grasp on
his throat relaxed, Garry flung himself hastily into
2o» THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
the other boat, and in a moment it was lost to
sight in the mists.
'Help, help!' cried Violet, again and again, only
interrupting herself to say, ' Yes, some one is coming
I see a light. It is another boat.'
But Sun-in-the-Hair never took her eyes from the
water.
'There he is! 'she shrieked at last. 'Mr. Archer
IS alive.'
'Where are the oars ?' demanded Dick excitedly.
' Gone overboard— lost ! ' said Violet. ' But look
he is all right. He swims like a wild duck.'
It was true, and even Sun-in-the-Hair was satisfied
that he did not need their aid. But as Dick
prepared to help him into the boat, a feeble despairing
cry for help smote on his ear, and, glancing over his
shoulder, he saw a dark object struggling, not far off
in the swirling water. '
'The bad man. He'll die,' said Sun-in-the-Hair
placidly, as she stretched her arms towards the
approaching swimmer.
But Dick hastily threw off coat and shoes.
'Be still, Dick— be still,' said Violet, grasping his
arm. 'Indeed, it is only Turner, and he deserves
to die.
In an instant, as she spoke, all the cruel injuries
that he had suffered at Turner's hands flashed through
Dick s mmd, and he felt inclined to echo. ' He deserves
to die.' He tried to shut his ears to those frantic
cries ; but as they died away it seemed to him that
another voice— the voice of Him Who on His cross
of agony prayed for His enemies— sounded sorrow-
fully from the mists, -If ye love Me, keep My
commandments. Love your enemies; do good to
as
' •.>
^^
s<; i\ro int. \v\ti:k anji siki-c k .hi.
AN ADVENTURE ON THE RIVER 103
them that hate you ' ; and shaking off Violet's
detaining hand, Dick sprang into the water, and
struck out towards the drowning man, to reach him
just as he was sinking out of sight.
Sam clutched wildly at his rescuer, and for a
moment it seemed that they would both go down to
death together ; but Dick managed to free himself from
his grasp, and, seizing him by the hair, contrived to
keep his head above water till some one (he knew
;iot whom) came to their aid, and lifted them both
from the icy water.
CHAPTER XXV
ON THE MOHAWK QUEEN
When Dick woke, after long unconsciousness, he
found himself in a little cabin on the Mohawk Queen,
with Joe Archer bending over him.
' That's right, lad. I'm glad to have a word with
you before I go,' he said. ' I began to fear that I
should be forced to go ashore before you awakened
from your swoon, and I should have been grieved
to carry bad news of you to my mother— though
perhaps she would not have counted it altogether
bad news that you were ready to give your life for
your enemies. It was a noble deed, Dick. I could
not have done it.'
' Hush, Joe ; you do not know how near I came
to letting him drown— only, just before it was too
late, it seemed to me I heard the voice of Christ
Himself bidding me go to his help. He is safe, is
he not ? '
'Turner? Ye.«, he's aboard too. He'll go ashore
with me.'
•And the girls?"
'They are at the door, crying their eyes out for
fear that you would never open yours again."
'Bid them come in, Joe.'
Archer did as he was asked, and the girls showed
ON THE MOHAWK QUEEN 205
their gladness in characteristic fashion. Violet knelt
beside Dick, and softly stroked his hand, while
Sun-in-the-Hair laughed and danced, and began a
long Indian song.
At last Archer interrupted her, exclaiming :
' Hark I they are calling again. I must bid you all
farewell.'
' Stop, Joe,' said Dick. ' I want to tell you how
much I thank you for all your kindnesses to me —
for this night's work not the least. I fear I was
somewhat impatient over your desire to accompany
us, yet without you I should have been overpowered,
and the. e fellows would have had their way.'
'I must admit that I thought both had a
scoundrelly appearance,' replied Archer; 'neither
did I like their frivolous objections to my going
with you ; but I had no notion myself that we
were setting out under the conduct of thine old
enemy.'
' I hate to think of your remaining behind, Joe, in
the very place where you have gained so much
ill-will for my sake and for that of these little
maids.'-
' Nay, have no fear. Have not these men failed in
their every plot? I believe that God still orders it
that the wicked fall into the pits they dig for the
innocent. Besides, if I mistake not, you have dis-
armed Turner at least'
' I thought Turner was dead,' said Sun-in-the-Hair
lightly. ' I hit hard.'
' Hush, hush I ' said Dick ; ' it isn't pretty for little
maids to talk in that fashion.'
' Did you hit him ? ' said Archer wonderingly. ' I
was surprised at his sudden fall.'
ao6 THE SEARCH F , MOLLY MARLING
' Yes, I hit hard with the big hook," said Sun-in-the-
Hair boastfully ; ' but I didn't mean to make you fall
too. The boat jumped so. Why did you go after
him, Dick ? He's bad.'
Dick's cheeks flushed.
' Because Jesus says, " Do good to your enemy." '
Sun-in-the-Hair opened her blue eyes in wonder
at this strange doctrine, but before she could ask
one of the many questions in her mind a man came
to tell Archer that the boat was going ashore that
minute.
Then Dick bade Joe farewell in haste, but Sun-in-
the-Hair clung to him and wept passionately.
' Good-bye, little maid ; God bless you,' he said
huskily. Then he turned to Dick : ' If she should
not be Molly Marling, will you let me know ?— and
I will come and fetch her home. It grieves me sorely
to part with her. She would have made up to us for
the babes we lost.'
' I will let you know everything,' said Dick, grasping
his hand with an almost painful pressure ; but even
at that moment he was a little hurt on Violet's account
that Archer did not seem to want her.
Afterwards, :iowever, he was glad that it was
Sun-in-the-Hai-, and not Violet, who was thus provided
for; for in spite of the opinions of Mrs. Archer's
friends, he was more and more convinced, as time
went by, that the latter was Miss Molly Marling.
When Archer at last disappeared over the ship's
side, Sun-in-the-Hair refused to be comforted, and
for a day or two she moped, and would neither talk
nor eat.
As soon as they got into the open sea they had
• cry rough weather. Dick and Violet were both ill ;
ON THE MOHAWK QUEEN
207
but Sun-in-the-Hair suddenly recovered her spirits,
and, whenever the sailors would let her be with them,
she stayed on deck, watching the great waves, and
shouting with delight when the spray dashed in her
face. In her way she tried to be kind to her com-
panions, but her attentions were more well meant
than well judged, and unconsciously she teased them
greatly.
When they had been a week at sea, the wind and
waves both moderated, and Violet began to enjoy the
voyage as much as Sun-in-the-Hair ; but Dick was
so overburdened with his responsibilities that he found
enjoyment impossible. Sun-in-the-Hair had improved
the occasion of his inability to attend to her by making
the acquaintance of all the sailors, and they teased
and played with her as if she were a pet bird or
monkey. Indeed, she often resembled the last-named
animal in her tricks.
Dick was dismayed one day to find that she
had climbed almost to the top of one of the masts ;
and while in that exalted position was treating
the sailors to a medley of songs. Most of them
were snatches of the airs they sang at their work ;
but Sun-in-the-Hair's odd mistakes and quaint
pronunciation of the words sent the men into shouts
of laughter.
' Sun-in-the-Hair, come down ! ' commanded Dick,
breaking in on the entertainment with a stern voice
and severe manner.
But the girl knew he could not follow her, so she
did not obey till she was ready.
' She is a wild girl,' said Violet. ' Do you think
she will ever be an English lady, Dick ? '
' I don't know,' replied Dick wearily. ' How would
ao8 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
you like me to teach you to read, Violet? All
English ladies can read and write, you know.'
' I'd like it. Begin now,' said Violet
When Sun-in-the-Hair saw that Violet had a new
occupation, she promptly came down from her perch
and entreated to be taught too. To Dick's astonish-
ment and Violet's annoyance she proved to be the
quicker scholar of the two, but she was lazy and
would not take much trouble to learn. If Dick
scolded her, she was sure to take refuge high on
the mast, and he had such a dread of her seriously
hurting herself that he generally avoided contentions,
and allowed' her to have her own way. He had
hoped at first that the captain's wife would keep
her in order; but though she taught Violet many
things, she was quite unable to control Sun-in-the-
Hair.
After a time the child grew very tired of the
confined life on board the Mohawk Queen, and it
seemed to Dick that she became daily more un-
manageable. They had contrary winds almost all
the way, and were three weary months crossing the
Atlantic.
At last came the happy hour when they sighted
land, and then Dick forgave his wild young charge
for singing and shouting.
Two or three days later they sailed slowly up the
river. It was a gloomy February afternoon, just
about a year fiom the time when Dick first left home,
but he could scarcely believe that so much could have
happened in so short a time.
The clouds were thick and dark. The water was
black ; the buildings on the banks seemed sombre
and dreary ; and even the shipping lying at anchor
ON THE MOHAWK QUEEN 109
by the wharves and the little boats moving hither
and thither looked sad-coloured and uninteresting
on that dark damp day.
' Is this England ? ' asked Violet, with an air of
disappointment.
But Sun-in-the-Hair was more outspoken.
'It's wet and dark,' she said. 'I hate England.
Dick.'
14
CHAPTER XXVI
A CLUE TO THE MYSTERY
Two hours passed before the passengers from the
Mohawk Queen could leave the vessel. By that
time it was almost dark, and Dick felt it was
rather a cheerless home-coming after his adventurous
journey. Amongst all the crowd on the wharf
there was not one face he knew, for Mr. Marling
had not received his letter saying that he was
coming home.
' Who is that ? ' Sun-in-the-Hair kept asking, and
she was much astonished when he shook his head
and answered, ' I don't know.'
' Don't you know any one ? Isn't this London,
Dick ? ' she said.
' Yes, but I don't know these people. Now, when
we've said good-bye to the captain and his wife,
we'll go and find the people I do know.'
He held their hands tightly, for he constantly
feared still that Sun-in-the-Hair at least might run
away and be lost, but she was so much subdued by
the jostling crowds that she clung to him as anxiously
as he to her.
' Are you sure you know the way, Dick ? ' asked
Violet, after they had made several turns, for she
A CLUE TO THE MYSTERY
remembered how difficult he hnd found it to follow
paths through the woods, which to her seemed
perfectly plain.
' Yes, here we are,' said Dick, stopping and clanging
the knocker on the door of Mr. Marling's tall old
house. But he could not wait till his noisy summons
was answered.
He tried the handle, found the door unlocked, and
marched upstairs, still holding the girls fast.
' Mrs. Marling ! ' he shouted in wild excitement ;
' I've come home, and here's Molly.'
A stout old lady in a snowy cap hurried out
of a room near by, and Dick, dropping the
hands he had held so long, took her in his
arms, and kissed her on both checks. He did not
forget that when he came back he was to be her
son.
The girls stood shyly looking on. Then the old
lady turned, and, taking one by each hand, drew
them into the strange old room where Dick had
first resolved on going to seek her grandchild.
The candles were not yet lighted, but the bright
firelight danced on the walls and on the queer
Chinese fans and vases.
* Now which is my little Molly ? ' said the old
lady, looking earnestly from graceful Violet to eager
little Sun-in-the-Hair.
' I don't know, ma'am,' stammered Dick, feeling
rather foolish.
' Don't know ? ' repeated Mrs. Marling, in a tone
of intense astonishment.
There was an awkward pause ; then Violet said
softly, 'Indeed, madam, I hope I am— I think
I am,
«ia THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
'Light the candles, Dick,' said the old lady.
'Now, little maids, let mc look it you both.'
They stood side by side, and Mrs. Marling gazed
at them with hungry, longing eyes. Alas I neither of
them bore the least likeness to the son she had
loved and lost so long ago.
' Oh, Dick,' she said at last, ' what do you mean ?
Are you sure that either is my child?"
'Yes, ma'am ; there is no doubt of that. ' I'll tell
you all as soon as may be.'
' Listen ; there is Mr. Marling,' said his wife.
' Come here, John. Here's Dick home again.'
' Well, my lad, this is a pleasant surprise I Why,
Dick, you've come back a man — you look twice as
well as when you went away.'
Mr. Marling shook hands with Dick and clapped
him on the back, and shook hands again. Then he
turned to the wondering girls.
' Now, lad, whom have we here ? Which ol these
little lassies is Molly 7 '
Again Dick blushed and stammered.
'Oh, sir,' he said, 'it's very strange, but I really
don't know.'
' You don't know ! Good gracious, lad, what do
you mean ? Don't know, did you say ? '
' He will tell us presently,' said Mrs. Marling
gently. 'Which do you think most like Robert,
John?"
' Come here, little maids,' said the old gentleman.
'Now, look at me. H'm, both are pretty enough,
and 'pon my word, Sally, this one really has a look
of you.'
•This one' was Sun-in-the-Hair, who was stand-
ing before the old man with her hands meekly
A CLUE TO THE MYSTERY
»«3
folded and her bonny blue eyes fixed on his
face. Dick thought that he had never before
seen her look so sweet and pretty. Indeed, for
a moment the little wild thing looked like some
fair young saint pictured on an old church
window.
' I don't see much likeness to Robert in cither,'
he continued. 'What was the matter, Dick? I
suppose the Indians got their captives a bit mixed
up, eh ? And it's no easy matter to sort them out
again.'
' Yes.' said Dick, ' it seemed to me it was surely
between these two. I thought you would not blame
me for letting; you sec for yourselves.'
'No, indeed, Dick— unless some poor bereaved
creature is seeking one of these little m.nids, I am
well content to have both,' said Mr. Marling. ' What
think you, wife ? But hadn't you better have supper
in ? They must be starving.'
' I daresay it is laid downstairs,' said Mrs. Marling.
'Come, my dears, I'll show you where to put your
hoods and cloaks.'
She put an arm round the waist of each, and led
them into her own room. Then she brushed back
their fair hair, apd made various little changes in the
arrangement of their dresses, doing all so tenderly
that both poor, motherless girls fell in love with her
from that moment.
' I like you, ma'am,' said outspoken Sun-in-the-
Hair, drawing Mrs. Marling's arm about her again.
But Violet suddenly began to cry.
' I have always wanted to be Molly since 1
heard,' she sobbed, ' and, now I want it more than
ever.'
ii4 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Mrs. Marling drew the weeping girl towards her
and held her fast.
' I suppose you cannot both be Molly,' she said,
' but you shall both be my very dear girls. Don't
cry, my child. I am glad to have two grand-
daughters when I only expected one.'
Mr. Marling said the same, after he had shaken
his head once more over his wife's impulsive ways.
Nevertheless, there was a grand consultation that
night, when the girls had gone to bed, as to how the
mystery was to be solved.
' You were quite right to bring both, Dick,' said the
old gentleman at intervals ; ' but from what you say,
and from her look of Sally there, I am inclined to
think that the little one is our Molly. Don't you
think so yourself, lad?'
' I don't know. I wish it had been Violet,' con-
fessed Dick ; ' but— it seems— as if every one thinks
it's Sun-in-the-Hair.'
' Well, lad, after all, it won't make much difference,'
said Mr. Marling. 'We have enough for both— for
all three of you, I mean.'
' Only Violet cares more,' said Dick. ' She does so
want to be an English lady, and I do believe Sun-in-
the-Hair had rather have been a savage. She does
like to wear a blanket'
Mr. Marling laughed long and loud.
' She shall have one, then. She's a sensible girl
Dick.'
' I like to see a lady dressed like a lady,' re-
turned the lad. 'You wouldn't be so fond of
blankets, sir, if you had seen as much of them as
I have.'
Mrs. Marling smiled.
A CLUE TO THE MYSTERY
"S
' Never fear, Dick ; the child will soon learn to be
as nice and n^^at in her ways as Violet. She is
wonderful, ' chink'
' Well, all hi.': is beside the point," said Mr. Marling.
' Shall we gi ."; the riddl .■ up, and be content that both
should be Miss iviai;in^;s? '
' I should like to know which is Robert's child,'
said the old lady, ' though I'm sure I shall feel the
other just as much my little grand-daughter. I can
truly say I have no wish that one should be ours
more than the other.'
' We are fairly divided, then,' said Mr. Marling.
' Dick here would have Miss Violet prove to be our
Molly, and I would have the other, despite her love
for those unseemly blankets, because she has a
sweet look of what you once were, Sally. To my
thinking, she might have sat for that picture,' he
added, with a glance towards the painting over the
fireplace.
' How can we find out ? ' said Dick. ' Do you think
much of the opinions of those who met together at
Mrs. Archer's ? '
'Something,' said Mr. Marling. 'The vote for
Sun-in-the-Hair was fourteen against seven, was it
not ? Two to one. Look here, Sally, where are the
old letters written by Robert and his wife after they
were married ? If I mistake not, there is enough of
the child in them. We may glean some hint to
help us.'
' They are here,' said the old lady, unlocking a
little cabinet close beside her favourite chair. ' Not
a month passes but I look them over. Strange,
I never thought of them. See, here is a lock of
the little one's hair.'
ai6 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Mr. Marling twisted the little fair curl round his
finger ; then laid it down, saying :
'That might have belonged to either. Both are
fair-haired. Is there nothing else ? '
' Only letters,' said Mrs. Marling with a sigh.
' Have you catechised the girls properly, Dick ? '
asked Mr. Marling after a pause. ' Can they remember
nothing to guide us ? '
Dick shook his head.
' Their memories seem to be so much alike, and so
vague, I can make nothing of them.'
Mr. Marling screwed his forehead into a half-
humorous frown. Dick stared at the fire, but Mrs.
Marling read eagerly through one worn sheet of
closely written paper after another.
Suddenly she looked up.
' Have you noticed anj mark or scar on the arms
of either, Dick ?— the right arm, I mean."
Dick started.
' I don't know ; yes, I believe Sun-in-the-Hair has
several marks on the right arm between the elbow
and the shoulder. They look almost as if some
creature had bitten her badly, but I remember
wondering when first I saw her whether the Indians
had cut or burnt her when she was first amongst
them.'
'Be still a moment,' said Mrs. Marling in great
excitement, taking up a candle and hurrying from
the room.
'Surely she thinks she has the clue,' murmured
her husband. 'I never saw a cleverer woman
than Mrs. Marling. She would have made a fine
lawyer if she had been a man,' he added with
quiet admiration.
A CLUE TO THE MYSTERY J17
But Dick sat still, staring at the fire. He did not
hear one word.
Five minutes later Mrs. Marling returned.
' Violet has not a mark on either arm,' she said,
' but Sun-in-the-Hair has three dbtinct bites close to
the elbow ; so you see, Dick— I am very sorry yon
are disappointed, dear lad, but we'll make it up to
Violet — she must be Molly.'
'Now, my dear old lady, what do you mean?'
cried Mr. Marling; 'Dick and I are all at sea.
Which is Molly? and what have the bites to do
with it?'
'Sun-in-the-Hair is Molly, and the bites are as
plain as plain can be. Three of them, Dick.'
' But, ma'am, we don't understand '
' Dear, dear ; didn't I read you the letter ? I
thought I had. Look, it's at the top of the page.
You read it, Dick ; I've lost my glasses."
' What is it ? Let me see,' said Mr. Marling, taking
the paper by one corner. But Dick in his eager-
ness still held the other, and together they read from
thequeerly spelt old letter, written by Mrs. Robert
Marling so many years before:
' I have nowe to tell you, dear mother, of a Most
Painful Occurance. Little Molly was Playing last
Nighte before the doore with her pet Dogge,
Frisk, when a Grate Dogge, owned by Widow
Sanson, came up and beganne to Chase Frisk.
Molly thought he was Hurting her Pet, and insted
of Running away. Boldly caught the Big Dogge
by his Hare. Upon that, he fell into a Rage, and
Bitt her little Arme most Cruelly between the
Elbowe and the Shoulder— three Distincte Bites.
I fear, Mother, she will Bare the Markes of this
2i8 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Erj'^ounter to her Dyeing Daye. I Rejoice to tell
you, however, that though this Grievous Accident
tooke Plaice but a weeke since, she is nowe About
againc as Merry as Ever, but it is a Piteous Sighte
to see her with her Pore Little Right Arme bound
up and Helpless.'
'That settles it,' said Mr. Marling; 'but never
mind, Dick ; if Sun-in-the-Hair is Molly, Violet shall
be Miss Marling too.'
CHAPTER XXVII
SUN.IN-THE-HAIR AGAIN
Nearly four years had gone by ; and Miss Marling
and Miss Molly Marling, as the girls were generally
called, had grown used to the new life. Violet
was now a fashionable young lady ; but Molly still
secretly rebelled against many of the restraints to
which she was subject; and at times broke loose
from them in a manner that scandalised V>'olet and
delighted Mr. Marling. On one of these occasioni
he presented her with a rich Cashmere shawl, telling
her that he was sure it was the ' prettiest blanket she
had ever seen.'
' Indeed it is,' she had answered ; and sometimes,
when she felt more than usually tired of stiff skirts
and stiffer collars, she put it on instead of her fine
stuff gown.
On the day of which I am writing she was suffering
from one of these rebellious fits ; and when Violet
came down late in the afternoon, she found Molly
standing by the window with the Cashmere shawl
gracefully draped about her person, and her long hair
flowing down her back.
' Oh, Molly, what are you doing?' demanded Violet.
' I'm not Molly— I'm Sun-in-the-Hair to-day,' she
answered ; and as she threw up her arms with a wild
2»o THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
gesture, Violet saw that they were adorned with a
miscellaneous assortment of silver chains and strings
of beads.
She laughed in spite of herself.
' Truly, I believe you would have liked to be left
in the forest to your own devices,' she said. 'You
want some feathers in your hair, and then you would
look like the prophetess who used to come to make
rain for Red-Star ! '
Molly glanced round the room with a mischievous
look; then darted to a little writing-table, and with
the help of some string contrived a wild-looking
coronet of two or three quill pens, and some feathers
plucked from a goose's wing, which was used to
sweep up the hearth. There was a little dark-framed
mirror in the room, and, standing before this, she
carefully arranged her new head-dress above her
shining hair.
' It is vastly becoming,' said Violet sarcastically.
' Oh, vastly,' said Molly. ' Don't you think I am
a good Indian wasted? Sometimes I pity myself
that I have lost all chance of wedding some great
chief, and being an Indian queen, as they say here.'
' A queen, indeed ; they little know what they are
talking about,' said Violet. ' What would they think
if they could see their queens bearing great loads of
wood on their backs, or yoked to a heavy sledge, like
a dog or a horse ? Ay, and there are worse things
than that. Molly, I wonder we ever lived through it.
Do you know your speaking, even in jest, of wedding
an Indian chief fills me with horror ? '
Molly laughed and danced about the room singing.
Suddenly she came to a standstill at Violet's side,
saying with a comical glance :
SUN-IN-THE-HAIR AGAIN
' Whom would you have me marry ? Dick ? '
Violet blushed, and, taking Molly by both hands,
said slowly :
' No, I haven't told you, I suppose, but I thought
you knew. I'm going to marry Dick.'
' Of course I knew. I'm very glad,' said Molly,
laughing, and beginning'Tier wild dance again. ' I
should have sent him frantic, but you'll just suit him.
Do you know, I believe he still regrets that you were
not Molly after all ; but it makes no real difference —
does it, Violet?'
She didn't answer. She thought it did, though she
did not like to say so. Presently she exclaimed :
' Molly, do be quiet and listen. I quite forgot. Dick
sent word that two old friends of ours were coming
in to supper, and they'll be here directly.'
' Two friends of ours ! I wonder who they are ? '
' He didn't say ; but do go and take off that
ridiculous dress. You have no idea what a little
savage you look.'
' If they're old friends of mine, they will surely like
to see that I haven't forgotten old times,' said Molly,
going to the glass to put her coronet straight on her
head, for her wild antics had disarranged it.
' Molly, please go,' said Violet in distress.
' Oh, Violet, but I am so comfortable and happy.
Indeed, I will go in a few minutes, but there is no
hurry.'
' There is, Molly. Granny would not be pleased if
you showed yourself to any one in that guise.'
Thus adjured, Molly moved slowly towards the
door, but it was opened befo'e she reached it, and
Dick ushered in a thin, elderly man, and a woman
who looked older still.
822 THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
The new-comers gazed at the girls. Violet sank into
a chair, blushing hotly at the plight in which her
adopted sister had been caught. But Molly stood her
ground : the next moment she rushed forward and
threw her arms round the neck of the man.
' It's Mr. Archer ! ' she cried.
' Little Sun-in-the-Hair ! ' he said. ' 1 did not
expect to see you so little altered," he added, with a
laugh. ' Dick, is this all your years of training have
amounted to ? I wish now I had brought with me a
present I thought of— that dear old patchwork quilt.'
Molly drew herself away with a sudden little flash
of dignity.
' You need not blame Dick,' she said. ' He has
done his best. Please sit down, and I will tell Mr.
and Mrs. Marling you are here.'
They came in immediately to see Dick's old friends,
but Molly did not return until she had changed her
dress and arranged her hair. They were then at the
supper-table. She took her place very quietly, and
listened to the conversation for some minutes in
silence.
' I suppose you remember Turner and Hunter Jim,
Dick ? ' Mr. Archer was saying. ' They have turned
over a new leaf since your departure ; and when they
heard I was going to England, they begged me to
carry to you some money— here it is— of which they
once cheated you, it seems. They also desired mc
to entreat your forgiveness for all the wrong they did
you, and all they tried to do.'
' It is ^wonderful,' said Violet ; but Dick said
nothing. He remembered with shame how sorely
tempted he had been to let Sam Turner drown
without an effort to save him.
y
SUN-IN-THE-HAIR AGAIN ,,3
' Under God. it is Dicif's doing.' said Archer, laying
his hand gently on the young man's shoulder 'As
Turner puts it, when a man, who calls himself a
Christian, is ready to risk his life to save his worst
enemy, then a fellow begins to think there's something
in Christianity ; and, as far as I can hear, the two of
them, Turn-i anri Hunter Jim, are both working hard
to earn an honest living, and to make reparation, as
far as they can, for their old crimes. Poor fellows '
it's uphill work for them.'
'God will surely help them.' said Mrs. Marling
softly ; then she turned to Dick, and whispered ' 1 am
proud of my boy.'
Dick shook his head, and answered :
•Nay, I have to thank you, ma'am, for everything'
After this they all sat silent for a few minutes-
then Mr. Marling exclaimed cheerily :
' Have you no friends to ask after, Molly ? '
' I don't think Mr. Archer knows my friends.' she
said, with a mischievous look. ' I suppose you have
seen nothing of Red-Star, or Poison-Arrow, or ray
old Indian mrmmy?' she added in a gentler tone
' She was very good to me in her way.'
Archer shook his head, saying :
' I have at least heard no ill of them. There has
been peace on our borders since Colonel Bouquet's
expedition into the Ohio country.'
'Violet thinks I'm foolish, but I should like to see
them all again,' said Molly.
' I'll take you. if you'll come back with us,' said
Archer. 'The business that brought me hither
will be settled in three or four months' time I
hope; then we will go together to see your old
friends.'
^\
114
THE SEARCH FOR MOLLY MARLING
Molly looked as if she found the proposal tempting;
but her grandfather shook his head.
' No, my dear sir ; it won't do. Dick is going to be
married this year, so we should have no one to send
if Molly were lost a second time.'
' Well, I hope 1 shall have another chance of seeing
you and the grand old woods again,' persisted Molly.
But she never crossed the sea again, and, instead
of marrying an Indian chief, she wedded a rich
London merchant, a little older and much graver
than Dick ; but, strange to say, her whims and wild
ways never distressed him— perhaps because he knew
how nearly his ' Sweet Molly ' had been altogether
lost among 'be savages.
THE END
PriHttd iy HtmU, fValtm & Vinty, Ld., Londm tmd Aylatury.
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